


Remember Me After the Storm

by Desirae



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BDSM, Boys In Love, Dean Winchester Deserves Nice Things, Deepthroating, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Domestic Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, First Time, Fluff, Jealousy, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Married Destiel, Michael is a stalker, Pining, Possessive Castiel, Praise Kink, Profound Bond, Rimming, Temporary Amnesia, True Love, recreational drug use as coping mechanism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 47,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23542597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desirae/pseuds/Desirae
Summary: Together since college, Dean and Castiel have an idyllic life. Cas is a successful writer and Dean is making a name for himself as an artist. Even with a decade of marriage under their belts, Dean and Castiel are just as in love as the day they were married.But when their Uber is hit by a hit and run driver, Castiel winds up in a coma, only to wake up with no memory of the last thirteen years of his life. Now Castiel has to reconcile what he remembers, with what is. Despite his fear, Cas finds himself drawn to Dean, the beautiful man who looks at him like Castiel invented the stars.Over the course of one snowed-in weekend, Castiel learns a lot about himself, and his relationship dynamic with Dean. The most important thing being that Dean Winchester is his past, present, and future.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gabriel/Sam Winchester(minor)
Comments: 176
Kudos: 645
Collections: Dean/Cas Pinefest 2020, SomethingBlue42's Favorites, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello Everyone!!! Here is my contribution to this year's Pinefest! I feel like I have waited 84 years to post this, lol. 
> 
> First off, thank you to our mods, who as per usual, were so great in putting this all together. It's so appreciated.
> 
> The phenomenal art in this fic is by the amazing Dmsilvis, and I am so happy I got to work with her again. Not just because she is she a dream to work with, as anyone who ever has can attest, but she's also just a lovely person and a great friend in general. Find her work [here](https://dmsilvisart.tumblr.com/post/615045651097698304/remember-me-after-the-storm-art-masterpost) and show her some love.
> 
> And so many thanks and so much love two my two best friends in fandom and in life-my parabatai/teapot Bek who test drove this fic before anyone and Zoelily, who is the best beta I could ask for and an amazing destiel/cockles writer, please check out her work!!!

“Maybe love at first sight isn’t what we think it is. Maybe it’s recognizing a soul we loved in a past life and falling in love with them again.”  
― Kamand Kojouri

Dean stood back as Nurse Masters checked Castiel’s vitals. He’d been slowly coming to wakefulness over the past twenty-four hours, his eyes unfocused and drifting back to sleep, until now. Castiel was finally awake and staying awake and Meg, as Nurse Masters had told Dean to call her, had paged Doctor Roche and inclined the hospital bed so that he was sitting up.

“Hey, there, handsome. Welcome back.” Meg’s voice was soothing and Dean watched Cas’ eyes dart between her calm face and Dean’s.

“What happened to me?” Castiel’s voice was rough and cracked from lack of use but it was still music to Dean’s ears.

“You were in an accident but you’re okay. You’ve been in a coma for a few days,” Meg said softly. Dean tuned her out as she began asking a series of questions from a checklist-- What’s your name? How many fingers am I holding up? Are you in pain? He was too busy cataloging his husband’s face, relief at Castiel’s baby blues staring back at him coursing through his body. When Meg paused to write something down, Dean tearfully leaned down to press a kiss to Castiel’s forehead. Dean was shocked when he jerked back, a raspy yelp of alarm sounding from his pink chapped lips.

“What are you doing?” Cas’ voice came out as a harsh whisper and Dean could only blink in surprise, a single tear escaping that he hastily brushed away with his palm.

“Kissing my husband who’s been sleeping on me for days?” Dean tried for light, not sure where Castiel’s agitation was coming from, or why he was suddenly so averse to PDA. Dean was dumbfounded to find blue eyes staring at him in shocked objection.

“That’s not funny.“

“Baby, what-”

“Stop it!”

Dean sucked in a breath at harsh censure in his husband’s voice and exchanged glances with Meg. She’d been by Dean’s side throughout this whole ordeal and could obviously see his panic beginning to set in.

“Castiel,“ Meg interrupted gently,“ can you tell me the last thing you remember?”

Dean stood by the bed and watched as Castiel narrowed his eyes in thought, chewing on his bottom lip; a nervous habit that Dean would usually stop with the press of his thumb to Cas’ bottom lip. It was a herculean effort to refrain from indulging in the decade-plus habit.“I was leaving a party? I think?” 

It was true. They had been leaving a private New Year’s Eve party. They’d taken the T to the Roadhouse but staying past the trains meant taking an Uber back home. It had been an intense night and they had both been eager to be alone and reconnect. Cas was a handsy drunk, much to the Uber driver’s dismay and Dean’s joy. Their loft was only fifteen minutes away, but the drop in temperature and rapidly falling snow left walking out of the question. Dean shouldn’t have been surprised when the accident happened. The roads were slick with black ice and it had been a horrific night for crashes. The Uber driver had never seen the other car coming. 

“Okay, what else?”

“I think I… I’m sorry, I have to ask,” Castiel angled his head to look up at Dean in irritation. “Who are you and why are you here? Where are my parents? Where is April?” Dean swore his heart stopped in that moment and he sank with an instant headache into the chair behind him, glad it was there to save him from the indignity of falling. 

_April_. Fuck, it had been a long time since Dean had heard that name. April Kelly, like Castiel, was a minister’s child. She had also been his girlfriend and if Castiel’s and April’s parents had had their way, they’d have been married. Fortunately for Dean, Castiel had finally come to terms with the fact that he was in love with his brother’s college roommate, and he and April had broken it off.

When Castiel’s parents had confronted him about it, he hadn’t been ready to come out to everyone yet. Instead, he told his mother and father that he really wanted to focus on his studies and they couldn’t really argue with that. Dean hadn’t wanted to push Castiel into telling his parents before he was ready, although at the time, part of him had wondered if Cas ever would be. Dean knew that Castiel had to come to the decision on his own. Years of having it drilled into his head that feeling the way he did about Dean was wrong, of not wanting to disappoint his family, made it especially difficult for Castiel to take that first step. Even when Thanksgiving rolled around and Castiel had invited Dean to come home with him knowing how much his mother loved to show off her hosting skills, Dean had declined. He knew there was no way he was a skilled enough actor to pretend that they were just friends. They could barely keep their hands to themselves as it was when they were in the same room. Plans changed when Sam and Gabriel decided to go to the Novak home as well.

_“Look, I’m sorry to ambush you like this,” Dean said, rubbing the back of his neck anxiously. ”I know I said I wasn’t coming, but I just found out that something big is about to go down at dinner tonight with our brothers. I couldn’t not be here for support, Cas. Drove as fast as I could to get here when Sam texted me.”_

_Castiel looked at him, first in puzzlement, then realization dawned on his face. Castiel wasn’t the only person with a secret in the Novak household._

_“Of course, Dean,” Castiel said, tugging him into the empty den for a stolen kiss. Damn, it had only been a few days but he had missed the feeling of Cas’ strong arms surrounding him. Dean felt almost touch-starved, something he and Castiel both seemed to suffer from. “You’re a good friend and a good brother,” Castiel murmured against his lips when they drew back far enough for air._

_Dean smiled at the praise, feeling the flush in his cheeks that always surfaced whenever Castiel showed how proud he was of Dean._

Thanksgiving at the Novak house, Dean had learned that year, was a lavish affair. Dean had been sure to apologize for the last-minute drop-in, but Hester Novak had waved him in, insisting that she always had a place for the less fortunate at her dinner table. Dean remembered thinking that he had to give her props for her balls, but Castiel couldn’t have looked angrier or more ashamed of his family if he tried. He didn’t want to make it worse. You would think with all of the aunts and uncles, cousins, and children running around it would have been a more relaxed and jovial atmosphere, but it wasn’t. Instead, as Castiel had warned him before dinner, it was a time for relatives to try and one-up one another with their personal successes under the guise of being thankful for their good fortune. Dean had been amazed that Castiel and Gabriel could have come from such stuck up, vapid people. That night, Dean had been on eggshells the whole evening, waffling between trying not to stare at his boyfriend and elbowing his brother whenever Sam forgot to breathe. 

It had been over a stunning apple pie that Dean knew Castiel had baked- _his honey-glazed crust a dead give away_ \- when Gabriel had detonated the bomb that Sam wasn’t just his roommate’s tag-along little brother, he was also Gabriel’s partner. 

Initially, you could have heard a pin drop, the silence was so deafening. Poor Sammy’s face was reminiscent of whenever he saw clowns; frozen panic with just a _dash_ of terror. Then, the chaos had ensued. Children being shooed from the table and into the den, as though being near the couple would give them _‘the gayness’_ to which Dean couldn’t hold back the snort of laughter _._ When Hester and Levi Novak had screamed at Gabriel, damning his soul and banishing him from their lives, Dean had watched as Castiel had looked on in shame and sadness at the people he called family. Then Dean had watched in awe as the arctic chill of his anger took over. Castiel had stood, quietly, facing his parents directly, blue eyes fierce with so many emotions. 

_“I’m in love with Dean,” Cas said without preamble and for a second Dean thought Hester was going to faint. A glance at Cas’ dad Levi showed the vein in his temple throbbing so prominently, Dean was worried it would explode. “Gabriel is in love with Sam. It does not mean we are going to hell, or that God loves us any less. But it does mean that we are leaving. Do not attempt to contact us again,” Castiel said, eyes finally finding Dean’s and lip curling up in a half-smile._

_“Dean? If you’d give me a few minutes to pack a bag, I’d like to go back home with you.”_

_“Whatever you want, baby, just say the word.”_

“Castiel, what year is it?” Meg’s question startled Dean back to the present as his husband murmured the words that confirmed what he already knew. He thought he might vomit.

“2006.”

Meg skittered her gaze to Dean. “I’m going to page the doctor again, he must still be stuck in surgery.”

“Why? What is going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Castiel asked when Meg stepped out to try and find out where Dr. Roche was. 

“Cas…,” Dean whispered as he searched Castiel’s wide blue gaze, hoping to find a speck of the warm affection that his husband always openly had for him. Instead, he only found impatience and fear.

“Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Cas, it’s 2019. You broke up with April thirteen years ago and we’ve been together ever since.” Dean said it slowly, watching as Castiel processed his words with disbelief etched on his handsome face. 

“Get out.” The words were growled out and Dean’s heart shattered into tiny shards at the look in his husband’s icy-blue gaze.

“But Cas…”

“GET. OUT!” 

“Dean, perhaps you should step outside, for just a moment,” Dr. Roche suggested soothingly, having walked in on the tail end of Castiel’s outburst and Dean could only nod, feeling nothing but a numbing sense of loss as he staggered towards the door.

Dean stumbled outside of the hospital room, his throat so tight with tears that the mere act of swallowing burned like fire. He fell back against the wall, the cool surface welcome as he slid down to the floor. With his forearms braced on his knees, Dean leaned his head back and closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He needed to not be a mess the next time Cas saw him. He needed to be good.

Dean lost track of the length of time he sat against the hospital wall. He reached into the pocket of his jeans and dug out his cell phone. He’d texted his brother, Sammy, after the doctors had rushed in. _He’s awake._ He knew when Sam read the message, he’d be grabbing his husband, Gabriel, and hightailing it to the hospital. Castiel Novak-Winchester, husband and love of his life, had just woken up from a three-day coma with no recollection of their life together. What the fuck was he gonna do?

Dean woke to the squeak of shoes on the industrial floors. Sam and Gabriel were crouched before him, each with an arm on one of his shoulders and an anxious expression on his face. His eyes drifted to the clock on the opposite wall. Nearly an hour had passed. 

“What’s going on Dean-o?” It was Gabriel who spoke first and Dean raised his eyes to meet his best friend’s gaze. 

“Cas… he um, he woke up. You know, all the way. And he looks good, physically he’s just fine, but he…,” Dean had to stop to compose himself. “He thinks he’s still with April. He doesn’t remember me. He doesn’t remember us,” Dean finished with a whisper, twisting his wedding ring around his finger.

Gabriel’s brows shot up. “He has amnesia? Well-what-is it permanent?”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know. Cas freaked out when I told him who I was. He didn’t believe me, told me to get out.” He hadn’t realized how shallow his breathing had become until Sam gripped his face.

“Hey, hey. Look at me. Breathe with me,” Dean mimicked Sam’s breaths, inhaling and holding on a four-count then releasing. “That’s it, you’re okay.”

“Fuck,” Dean muttered once his breathing had returned to normal. He knew there was no shame in panic attacks but he’d never had one before and it was a little terrifying.

“Let’s just try and stay calm and see what the Doc says,” Gabriel said, his hand never leaving Sam’s lower back. 

“Gabe’s right,” Sam replied calmly, slowly loosening his grip on Dean and extending to his full height. “Maybe Dr. Roche will have some more information for us.”

“Thanks, guys.” Dean appreciated Sam and Gabriel’s calm presence. Especially since he knew they were worried too. They’d been by Dean’s side at the hospital, finally going home to sleep yesterday after being told it would be hours yet before Castiel was fully awake enough to hold a conversation.

“Dean?” Dr. Roche’s voice came softly as he slipped out of Castiel’s hospital room.

“Castiel is ready to talk to you now. Can you come back inside? Just Dean for right now, boys. We don’t want to overwhelm him too quickly,” Doctor Roche said kindly.

Sam helped Dean up and he gathered himself together. He needed to shake it off and be strong. “We’ll be right here,” Sam said with a clap to his shoulder.

When Dean entered the room, Castiel seemed calmer and he surveyed Dean with a curious detachment that made his stomach ache, but he pressed on and situated himself back in the chair beside the bed.

“Heya, Cas.” His voice was meant to be strong but the words came out on a tremulous sigh.

“Hello, Dean.”


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel fiddled with the rough fabric of the hospital bedding. He hated this feeling of being out of his depth. Dr. Roche had been concerned with the spike in his heart rate when he’d become agitated, but could anyone truly blame him? He’d just woken from a coma and, apparently, the last thirteen years of his life had been erased from his memory? And let’s not forget that he’s married to a man, something his family never would have stood for, aside from maybe his brother, Gabriel. Castiel glanced down at his left hand and examined his fingers. He wasn’t wearing a ring but he knew that any jewelry would have been removed before testing. He didn’t wear one, yet it was obvious that he normally did. The imprint was there, the tan line clearly showing where a wedding band usually sat.

Castiel sat up a little straighter, much better now that the catheter was gone and he wasn’t feeling so exposed. After banishing Dean from the room, Dr. Roche had been impressed when Castiel insisted on making an attempt to go to the bathroom on his own. It had been a shaky start but he’d been able to make it there and back, Nurse Meg within arm’s reach just in case. He couldn’t bring himself to look in the mirror yet. He’d been able to change into a pair of sweatpants and a soft long-sleeved grey tee-shirt that said  _ Random Acts _ on it that Meg had said Dean brought for him. The fiesty nurse had decided his name was now Clarence, since surely he had angels on his side for recovering so quickly. He didn’t bother to tell her that the name Castiel was derived from seraphs as well.

Castiel looked over as Dean walked into the room. He was a sight. Even though the man looked utterly wrecked, Castiel could see he was stunning; the epitome of the phrase _classically_ _beautiful_. Ginger freckles stood in stark relief against the paleness of his skin, more hidden under a light reddish-brown scruff that spoke of days of not shaving. Dean’s moss green eyes were flecked with gold and were red-rimmed from crying. Castiel felt an overwhelming pang of sympathy for how hard this must be for him and a healthy dose of shame for how he had screamed at him. 

“Heya, Cas.“ Dean’s voice was breathy and tentative. He raked a hand through his burnt-honey hair before rubbing at the back of his neck. It caused the tee-shirt hiding under his flannel to rise, showing a strip of freckled flesh. He had a split-second vision of Dean on his knees, staring up at him with love and trust in his deep green eyes. Castiel fought down his own panic at the instinctual possessiveness the sight stirred in him. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, wincing at how even more gravelly his voice seemed than usual. He blinked when Dean immediately reached over to grab the cup of ice water that had been placed on Castiel’s bedside table. He took it gratefully, the coolness soothing his dry throat.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you,” Castiel said, sincerely. “I was… upset,” he said, searching for an appropriate word to describe his current mindset other than _stunned_ , _shocked_ , _bewildered_ , _intrigued_ _and_ _terrified because of that_.

“So,” Dr. Roche began as Dean settled in his chair, twisting his wedding ring around and around his finger. Castiel wondered if it was a newly acquired habit. Castiel noticed that Dean’s jean-clad leg was bouncing nervously and had faded streaks of what looked like engine grease and paint on the knee. “Dean, as I explained to Castiel, this type of amnesia is most likely temporary, caused by the slight trauma to Castiel’s brain.” Castiel jerked in surprise when Dean scoffed.

“Slight trauma, right,” Dean muttered, scraping a hand over his face. “You say might, but maybe not? How long are we talking here?”  _ How long will I be a stranger to my husband _ ? Castiel heard the unasked question.

“Dean, you were both lucky to walk away from that accident. If Castiel hadn’t been breaking the seatbelt law by straddling your lap,” Dr. Roche arched a brow at them both and Castiel felt his face flush at the implication. Dean, for his part, merely smirked.

“Castiel would more than likely not be here right now. The passenger side of the Uber you were in was completely totaled. You escaped with mere bruising and aside from the concussion that caused the swelling in Castiel’s brain, his other injuries were minor as well.” Dr. Roche looked at Castiel. “Physically, you’re fine. Your tests came back clean, miraculously, I might add. I wish I could give you a clear answer on when his memories will return but I can’t. As little as a few days to as much as six to nine months. And yes,” Dr. Roche inclined his head, “there is always the slim possibility that they may never return. But we can cross that bridge if we come to it.”

“What do you recommend we do, then?” Dean’s voice was strained and Castiel could see he was frustrated with the answers he was getting. 

“We’ll keep Castiel here under observation for at least another two days. Don’t look at me like that,” Dr. Roche said as Castiel rolled his eyes. “This isn’t  _ Doctor Sexy,  _ Dean. Your Cas doesn’t just get to leave after brain trauma. We need to evaluate. And when you’re released, I would suggest you go home. Surround yourself with familiar things and try to get back into a routine,” Dr. Roche addressed them both.

Castiel laughed out loud at that. “Really? A routine I don’t remember, where I what? Wake up every day next to this man and go to work? I don’t even know his last name! What do I even do? I imagine my parents and I aren’t on speaking terms if I… if I’ve gone and done something like this.” Castiel couldn’t stop the words from coming out and he immediately regretted them when the blatant hurt flashed in Dean’s eyes before he hid it away. 

“Castiel, you need to calm down. All of these are questions that can be answered, one at a time. I’m sure your husband and the rest of your family will be around to help you figure out what your routine is.”

Dean cleared his throat quietly, gaining Castiel’s attention. “My last name,  _ our _ last name, is Winchester. You’re a writer.” Dean, who had sat quietly during Castiel’s outburst spoke up, gruffly. “You don’t remember but you actually love waking up next to me every day, even though you’re a grumpy asshole without coffee first thing in the morning.” It was a half-hearted try at teasing but Castiel was too raw to attempt a laugh. “You go through about two cups before you get dressed for the day and then you either write in your home office or at Gabriel’s bakery. Sometimes, even the park, depending on your mood and the weather. ” Dean looked up from where he’d been staring at his wringing hands, pulling his eyes from the crescent-shaped imprints from his too-long nails, and surveyed him directly as he spoke, so intensely, as though hoping the words were some secret key to unlocking Castiel’s memories. “We live just outside of Boston and we see a lot of each other during the day because we work together.” Dean caught his gaze as though awaiting permission and Castiel nodded at him to continue. The smooth timber of Dean’s voice remarkably soothing for reasons he couldn’t explain. “I’m a former mechanic and a current book illustrator. I create all of the artwork for  _ Supernatural _ , your book series.” Dean crossed his arms around himself, as though keeping himself together. “It’s a good life, Cas.” 

Castiel couldn’t begin to fathom how he had gone from dating April and studying to be a minister to being some sort of writer, married to a  _ man _ , and estranged from his parents. And Gabriel...

“Wait, you said  _ Gabriel’s _ bakery? My brother, Gabriel?” Castiel sat up straighter. The last clear recollection Castiel had of Gabriel was him leaving their small town of Lincoln, New Hampshire, to attend school at UMass Dartmouth to become a lawyer. He was living in an apartment with two roommates, from what he could remember from their last phone conversation.

“I’m going to let you two talk and I’ll be by to check back with you later,” Dr. Roche said and slipped out the door with an encouraging smile aimed at Dean.

“Yeah, um, Gabriel’s my best friend. He was my brother’s and my college roommate. We had this cheap three-bedroom condo, not much to look at, but it was close enough to the school that the buses and the T were right there. Sam and I decided to take on a roommate for extra cash and it was a  _ right-place-right-time  _ kinda thing.” Castiel cocked his head, trying to put his thoughts in order. “We were putting up flyers in the student center when we heard your brother bitching to someone about being stuck in a room with a kid who boiled cabbage every night for dinner,” Dean said with an amused lilt to his voice.  _ Yes. That sounded familiar _ . He knew Gabriel hadn’t been happy with his housing. It’s why he’d moved off campus. “I noticed that he was around my age and no offense to the 18-year-olds out there on campus, I just felt more comfortable with someone in my own age bracket. I got a late start with school,” Dean clarified when Castiel arched a brow.

Castiel wondered why that was, but instead of asking, he offered up his own information.

“Gabriel started college late, as did I because everyone in the Novak family is required to work in one of the family businesses after graduating high school,” Castiel explained, but Dean only nodded.

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said with a half-smile. “Best friend. Husband,” he reminded, jerking his thumb towards his chest. “Gabriel gave me you guys’ entire life story when he moved in. How he was required to work and save up to pay his own way, how you weren’t allowed to apply for loans or scholarships because  _ God doesn’t reward laziness _ .” Dean rolled his eyes. “TMI isn’t really a thing for your brother,” Dean said dryly, and wasn’t that the truth. Castiel had often pitied anyone who would have to deal with it on a permanent basis, such as he had his whole li- 

“Wait a minute, you’re  _ that _ Dean,” Castiel shook his head. How had he forgotten that? Dean and Sam were the names of Gabriel’s roommates. Suddenly, right there, the names floated to the tip of his tongue. He remembered, Gabriel would mention them once in a while on his calls home. 

“Yes, I’m that Dean,” Castiel faltered a bit under the fond look he was receiving and Dean quickly schooled his expression into something less familiar. “You’d started school the following year yourself, but by spring of 06, you’d decided to transfer to where Gabriel was to finish your degree. You’d needed some space from your parents and you crashed with us,” Dean said and Castiel nodded. That wasn’t surprising as he often felt suffocated at home, at his work, with April. “By the time you got there, Gabe had already realized that he was only doing the lawyer thing because it’s what your parents wanted. He was taking a cooking class in his free time, and he loved it, which then eventually led to his switching to a culinary program, specializing in pastries.” Dean said with a laugh. “He designed our wedding cake. What that man can do with fondant is fucking amazing.” 

Castiel could somehow see it. Gabriel had always had a sweet tooth and he’d never truly thought that law and order was something Gabriel really wanted to do for the rest of his life. The pains a child will go to please their parents. Castiel knew all about that. The plan for Castiel had been set since he’d been able to attend school. He would go to college, get married, and take over the family church. His duties had been drilled into him since childhood. He’d followed every single rule. Gabriel was groomed to study law and Castiel, the Lord. He dated women his mother chose for him, most recently April Kelly, a perfectly sweet, albeit, slightly dull girl, whom his father thought worthy of the Novak name. 

Yet somehow, he was to believe he’d been brave enough to walk away from all of his family duties for one man? Castiel found himself tilting his head and studying Dean again with furrowed brows. Dean shifted under his gaze, crossing his arms defensively. With his long-sleeved flannel now tied around his waist and just a tee-shirt on, Castiel caught a glimpse of red peeking from under the sleeve; a tattoo of some sort and he was curious as to what the whole of it was. It drew his gaze like a magnet.

Dean interrupted his ponderings by asking if Castiel wanted to see his brother. 

“You said he was here? Gabriel? Yes, please. I want to speak to him.” Castiel suddenly felt the need to see a familiar face. Dean seemed to hesitate before he nodded. Castiel watched his tired gait as Dean made his way to the door to call his brother in and some base part of Castiel had the urge to take Dean in his arms and care for him.

Gabriel entered the room followed by an extremely tall man with medium length brown hair. He was dressed in business casual. Gabriel, he noticed, dressed more like Dean with jeans and a long-sleeved flannel, paired with a warm looking jacket. Castiel was shocked to see how much Gabriel had changed.

“You got older,” he blurted dumbly and the tall man next to him snickered, earning himself an elbow to his gut. 

Gabriel snorted. “Yeah, well, so did you, Cass-a-frass. Shall I get the mirror?”

Castiel was thrown for a second because of course, he would look older too. Wasn’t that part of why he had avoided his reflection? If he’d lost the last thirteen years of his life, that would make him forty-one. He unconsciously found himself reaching up to touch his face when he found himself surrounded by the warmth of his brother’s arms and his familiar scent of cherry jolly ranchers.

“You scared the hell out of us, brother,” Gabriel said, pulling back, his glasses askew on his face and his golden-brown eyes shining behind his lenses.

“Uh, Cas?” When Castiel turned towards Dean the longing on his tired face was palpable. An inexplicable wave of guilt washed over him at the distance he was keeping Dean at, though it just couldn’t be helped. “This here is my brother Sammy.” Dean gave a pointed look at Gabriel.

“Cassie, Sam’s my husband.” It was said flatly but Castiel could see the challenge in his brother’s eyes as Sam gave a little friendly wave from where he stood next to Gabriel.

There was a slight roaring in his ears as the first thing he could think to say was “Since when are you gay?” 

“Watch it, Cas,” Dean’s voice was dangerously soft. “I understand this is fucked up for you but that is both of our brothers you’re speaking to and they have always been there for you.” Dean stood up abruptly. “For us. I’m gonna take a walk, let you guys talk.” 

Castiel watched, feeling properly chastized and bitter about it as Gabriel and Sam nodded solemnly after Dean. 

“Well, now you’ve done it. I’ve never heard Dean be that firm with you. Usually, he lets you get away with murder,” Sam said awkwardly.

Gabriel snorted. “What he means is, usually Dean wears the collar, not you.” Gabriel made a  _ Woop-Pashaw _ noise, as though cracking a whip and Sam told Gabriel to behave. Castiel could feel the heat rising to his cheeks. He found it hard to believe that he would have any control over a man as strong-willed as Dean appeared to be, yet the way Dean’s eyes practically screamed that they would do anything for him, hinted at submissiveness and told Castiel that he really didn’t know anything about himself anymore.

Castiel sighed heavily. “Gabe, Sam, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...God, it’s just all so much to take in. Of course, I just want you to be happy and I cannot judge you for what only God can.”  _ Judge us _ , he acknowledged to himself.

Gabriel walked over and took Dean’s seat. “Believe it or not, brother, you know as well as I do that God couldn’t give a flying fuck who we love so long as we’re not hurting anyone. You just don’t remember that right now. But,” Gabriel’s tone turned teasing, “if it makes you feel any better, we’re not gay. Sam and I are bi and you’re demisexual.”

Castiel didn’t even know what that meant. He’d personally, never thought much about what God thought of sexuality. It wasn’t what he focused on. Castiel didn’t associate his own version of God as one who would be wrathful over two humans falling in love just because they happen to be the same gender. His parents, however, had very strong opinions on the subject. Something he learned when his cousin Alfie was kicked out of his home for coming out to his parents as gay. Castiel remembered his mother speaking of it to his father when it happened. Asking:  _ What else was my sister supposed to do? Let an abomination like that live under her roof? _ The words had made his stomach twist at the time. It was as though Alfie was no longer a person. Castiel had never been sexually attracted to anyone before, let alone a man, and Castiel remembered that in that moment of listening to his mother’s rant, being grateful for his lack of interest in carnal endeavors. Honestly, he couldn’t say for sure whether he was all that attracted to anyone. He and April’s relationship was very chaste. There was the expected hand-holding, and soft kisses, but more out of expectation than any clear  _ want _ . April was a wait until marriage kind of girl. Any primal urges Castiel ever had were purely biological and handled alone, in the privacy of his own bed or shower. Quick and perfunctory stress relief. The few times he had attempted to pilfer Gabriel’s pornography out of curiosity had done nothing for him and it was easier to just jerk himself off without it, just focusing on gaining physical release. Castiel let himself give Dean another mental perusal, curious as to whether he knew the secrets to Castiel’s body.

They didn’t have much in common, he and April, but Castiel was fond of her, all the same. And they understood each other and the importance of family. They’d been set up by their parents in the hopes that a union between them would unite their two churches, with Castiel ready to take over as minister once his studies were finished. Castiel often tried not to think about how he was supposed to produce children when the idea of sleeping with his girlfriend had all the appeal of a trip to the DMV. But then again, apparently, this was not an issue he had to deal with anymore.

Castiel desperately needed to know what was so special about Dean Winchester that he would be ready to take on the wrath of his parents and the threat of hell and eternal damnation. What made him so righteous that Castiel would abandon his family, his duties, and their dreams, for him to run off and marry a man with golden freckles and eyes filled with the greens and golds of Autumn? 

When Dean returned to the room, he carried in with him two take-out cups, offering one to Castiel. He took the cup from Dean with an apologetic smile, sighing happily at the burst of tea and honey flavor when he sipped. Strong and sweet, just as he liked it.

“Thank you, Dean. And I’m sorry about before. I meant no offense.”

“S’okay. I, uh, I would have got you coffee, but it’s after one, and you know how you like to switch to tea in the afternoon.”

It was weird, having a stranger know his likes and anticipating them. He couldn’t recall April ever going out of her way to learn his habits like that. It was a bit like entering a parallel universe where the characters were mostly the same but the plotline was vastly different.

Sam settled at the small table across the room and Dean dragged the other chair to the right side of Castiel’s bed.

“Tell me about yourselves, please. I need to think about something other than this blank slate in my head. Sam, what do you do? Gabriel, when did you open your bakery?”

“One question at a time, baby,” Dean said with a soft laugh before blushing. “Sorry, it’s just, it’s a habit-”

“Dean, it’s fine. It’s something we’re both going to have to get used to. If you and I keep apologizing to each other for every unrehearsed word, we’ll spend our days in a perpetual state of I’m sorries and I forgive you’s.” 

Sam cleared his throat. “So, I’m a lawyer. I met Gabriel when he became our roommate my first year, well,  _ our _ first year, of college.”

“Sammy here got a full ride to B.U.,” Dean said proudly and Sam rolled his eyes.

“Yes,  _ after _ Dean put off his own education for four years working three jobs to save for my tuition,” Sam’s smile was so affectionate, the love for his brother shining through. “Only fair he be able to use all that saved money on his own dreams.”

“You did that?” Castiel gestured at Dean. “Why not your parents?” Castiel asked, instantly regretting it for the dark shadow that crossed Dean’s face.

“Um, yeah, they weren’t around. Our Mom died in a house fire when we were kids and Dad, he never really recovered,” Dean said quietly. “Used the insurance money to buy a cheap condo, spent the rest on booze and whatever hell else kept’m outta the house every night.”

“Dad took off when Dean was seventeen,” Sam picked up the story. “Signed over the deed to our house and the title to the car and just left.”

“Still can’t believe he left her behind,” Dean chuckled but it was bittersweet sound. “He loved that car more than he ever loved me. Sometimes I think… he left to die. Didn’t want anything with him that could identify him.”

Castiel was aghast. What kind of person just abandoned their kids like that? Who could be so selfish? The funny thing was, Dean didn’t seem mad. He appeared strangely at peace. Dean looked at Castiel, eyes naked with emotion, that seemed to say  _ I get it.  _ That Dean could understand his father’s feelings.

Castiel was breathless at the thought that Dean’s happiness, his very own life, could depend on him. How could quiet, rule-abiding Castiel Novak be so important to one person? It was overwhelming and heady at the same time and he needed time to think about that. Again, an image flashed,  _ hand fisted in honey-burnt hair, mouth full of- _ Castiel pushed the thought away.

“Wasn’t there anyone around who could help you?” Castiel tried to picture Dean and Sam, so young and on their own, and for a second he did. Like a snapshot, he saw a short-haired teen with his arm slung around a shaggy-haired boy’s shoulders. Castiel couldn’t help but wonder if the image was real.

“We just kept it to ourselves. Dean was too afraid to say anything to anyone about our situation in case they called social services and separated us. I was only thirteen and Dean wouldn’t be eighteen until the following January. We kept a low profile,” Sam said with a shrug. “Dean finished out his senior year, then worked his ass off to support us. Luckily our place was paid for but we still had utilities and Dean was insistent I go to my first pick of schools,” Sam said. 

Castiel cocked his head as he studied the man; his  _ husband _ , who was actively avoiding his gaze, clearly not enjoying being the center of attention.

“That’s extremely admirable of you, Dean,” Castiel said, with a bit of awe in his tone. Dean merely shrugged, as though it were no big deal but his flush told Cas he was pleased with the praise.

“Sammy was always college-bound, and I didn’t really know what I wanted to do yet,” Dean admitted. “I mean, I always sketched and painted but I knew my way around the engine of a car and I’d been working at my dad’s buddy Rufus’ garage since I was fifteen. Made sense for me to keep doing that and bartending on the side. Sam here, he always knew he wanted to save the planet.” Castiel quirked a brow and Sam laughed. “I didn’t mind waiting for my shot.”

“I work in environmental law,” Sam said by way of explanation.

“Yeah, you two talk about bee protection. A lot.” Dean said, gesturing between Castiel and Sam with his finger, as Gabriel nodded in solidarity.

“A  _ lot _ , a lot,” Gabriel said sagely.

“Well, bees-” Castiel started in unison with Sam and induced the first real laugh he’d heard out of Dean during this whole ordeal. It was a musical sound that lit up his face and had crinkles forming at the corners of his eyes. He was undeniably beautiful and Castiel could clearly see how someone like Dean could have tempted him. Dean had a radiant energy about him, despite his trials, and it was alluring, to say the least. Shaking off the thought to examine later, he turned to Gabriel.

“And you?”

“My bakery is called  _ Glazed and Confused _ . We specialize in elaborately decorated wedding cakes and pies and have a selection of Cannabis-infused edibles in desserts, pastries, and candies.”

It sounded so outrageous that Castiel could only laugh. When he realized no one else was, he scowled. “Wait, that’s legal now?”

“Baby, I know it’s a lot, and we’ll answer any questions you have, ” Dean informed him with a besotted smile that left Castiel feeling warm, “but you look like you’re ready to drop off.”

He was feeling extremely tired, but Castiel wasn’t ready to stop talking yet, thirsting for information. “Soon, I promise,” he said with a little yawn. “Tell me more.” Castiel adjusted himself on the bed, sinking back as comfortably as he could, wanting to hear more things about this mystery his life now was.

They talked the afternoon away. Castiel learned that they frequented a bar called The Roadhouse, where Dean sometimes played guitar and sang with his friend Chuck’s band. He was proud to learn that not only had Castiel reached out to his cousin Alfie but he and Dean were also godparents to Alfie and his husband Benny’s twin daughters Ruby and Eve. Dean told him how they sometimes did live-action role-play with their friend Charlie, who was a game designer. Castiel found himself fascinated with the concept; trying to picture himself dressed as some medieval warrior of yesteryear sharing a tankard of ale with his hand-maiden husband while fighting alongside elves to beat ShadowOrks. It kind of blew his mind. He demanded to see pictures and Dean promised to show him when they got home.

_ Home _ . Now there was an apprehensive thought. Going home with Dean. A virtual stranger, albeit a kind and loving one, if he could trust his observations.

After a spectacularly shitty dinner of hospital cafeteria food, Gabriel and Sam took off, both having to be up early for work, though both promised to come around to the loft over the weekend. 

Reluctantly, Castiel could tell, Dean rose from the chair. Castiel knew that Dean wanted to stay but Castiel was grateful he apparently recognized that what Castiel really needed right now was some space to digest everything that had happened to him.

“Alright, so I’ll be back in the morning. I’ll bring you some new clothes, and a razor so you can shave off some of that scruff.”

Castiel brought his hands to his face and Dean laughed.

“You’re usually a little stubbly but this is an almost full-on beard. But hey, I’m down if you wanna try out the sexy history professor look,” Dean teased and Castiel refused to blush at the flirtation. This was his husband. Odds are they’d had sex with each other. A little wordplay should not make butterflies wing in his stomach. “I’ll go shopping and make sure to have the bedroom all set up for you, for when they spring you out of here.”

“Dean, I don’t want to put you out of your own room-”

“It’s our room, Cas, and it’s fine. We have an awesome sectional that’s comfy as hell. I’ll be fine.”

“You think there is any chance they’ll let me out tomorrow instead of two days from now?”

“Eager to get out of here? I know you hate hospitals,” Dean said. He did. Castiel felt an intense dislike of the establishment. Probably, because every relative he's ever visited in a hospital has never come out. Dean continued. “I guess it’ll depend on how you’re doing. I don’t know if you can sign yourself out. Gotta say I’m not too keen on you leaving against doctor’s wishes,” Dean said, ”and I’ll fight you on it if it’s necessary.”

Castiel could see Dean wouldn’t be budged on this and nodded in agreement. “We’ll talk to Dr. Roche tomorrow and play it by ear,” Castiel conceded.

Dean leaned down as though to kiss him goodbye only to back up, remembering himself. Castiel let out a sigh that was either disappointment or relief. With a final searching look, Dean nodded goodbye. 

“Wait,” Castiel found himself saying as Dean made to leave. When his husband turned back, Castiel offered his hand and a sheepish smile. Dean tentatively grasped his fingers and Castiel tugged him in for a hug. It was enough to light up Dean’s whole beautiful face. Dean embraced Castiel softly and he could feel the hesitance he knew was for his benefit. Dean smelled of cinnamon spice and leather and Castiel inhaled deeply, then greedily, gripping Dean tighter. “Sleep well, Dean,” Castiel found himself murmuring and he could hear the catch in Dean’s breath when he replied.

“You, too, Cas.”


	3. Chapter 3

  
  


Dean didn’t want to get out of bed. He didn’t want to leave the space that still smelled of his husband’s girly (awesome) apple shower gel only to go to the hospital and have the love of his life look at him like he was some interesting new acquaintance. He’d become so used to always seeing Castiel’s love for him shining naked in his eyes, that the impersonal curiosity he saw yesterday had hurt like a son of a bitch, leaving him raw and exposed.

Gabriel and Sam had invited him over for the night but Dean just wasn’t up for it. He couldn’t handle watching their casual intimacy when he couldn’t even give his own husband a kiss on the cheek. Maybe that was selfish but he felt too decimated to care. Dean had spent the rest of the evening cleaning his mess up from the past few days. He’d done little but come home to grab a change of clothes and shower. Dishes still sat in the sink from the week before and God knows what was growing in the take out box from _Happy_ _Garden_ , but it was gone now. Dean washed laundry and folded it, then did a grocery run, making sure he stocked up on some of Cas’ favorites and was sure to pick up a new jar of raw honey from the little specialty shop a few blocks away.

Dean made the bed and made sure to place the latest novel Cas had been reading on the nightstand, along with a copy of his book, the first in his  _ Supernatural _ series, in case he wanted to check it out. Dean could only imagine it would be surreal. The night before, Dean had made a simple chicken alfredo casserole and frozen it to be baked later. It was one of Cas’ comfort foods, along with PB&J and homemade burritos. After he’d run out of things to clean and food to prep, Dean finally let himself sit still only to immediately fall apart. Not even getting lost in his art would do any good once the dam broke. 

After crying himself hoarse, Dean poured himself a glass of whiskey— the Jameson he and Cas kept on hand for special occasions. If he was gonna have a good old pity party, then Dean decided he needed the good booze. Then, Dean decided to cap the night off by torturing himself even further. He watched his and Castiel’s wedding video. Needless to say, as Dean finally pushed himself to shower, he had a full-blown headache, itchy eyes, and a sick stomach. Under the spray of the shower, Dean promised himself no more tears. He couldn’t expect his husband to fall back in love with him if he was a constant blubbering mess. 

Dean even made an effort to shave, only nicking himself twice with his shaky hand. He threw on his forest green, long-sleeved, Henley, because it’s Cas’ favorite, and his least paint and grease splattered jeans. He packed Cas’ softest blue hoodie, the AC/DC teeshirt of Dean’s he always liked to steal, and comfy blue sweatpants. One of his numerous pairs of orange underwear and a pair of the ridiculous toe socks Cas loves so much went into the bag as well, along with a razor and shaving gel.

Dean doubled checked himself before going down to the parking garage. He’d never used his car more in the city than he had the past week, back and forth to the hospital. Everything he and Cas normally needed was a bus or train stop away from their loft but the hospital was a long commute from their part of town and it was quicker to drive straight in. Not to mention the chill in the January air. Dean tossed the duffel in the back and slid into the driver’s seat. He stared at himself in the mirror for a minute, trying to get his head on straight. This was Cas. No matter what was going on with his memory, this was still his husband, and Dean needed to remember that.

Dean walked past the nurse’s station, noticing Becky Rosen eyeing him up and down. She was a gossip and a nuisance and her brother Michael was a lawyer who worked in the same building as Sam. Unfortunately, he was worse than his sister. Dean had forgotten she worked at the hospital and was sure his private business was floating all over town by now. When Dean got to Cas’ hospital room, he knocked softly, pushing down the butterflies dancing in his normally cast-iron stomach.

“Come in,” Castiel called back in his deep rumble. 

Dean found him sitting on the end of the bed, eyes flickering up at the morning news. Castiel turned his startlingly blue gaze towards Dean and studied him intently. It wasn’t uncomfortable, it was something Cas had always done with him. Like if he looked hard enough, he could see Dean’s soul.

“I had a dream about you,” Castiel said suddenly, and Dean had to take a breath. He’d heard that phrase from Cas many times in his life, and in many different ways; seductive like whiskey and smoke, playful and teasing like summer rain. Dean’s first instinct was to wink and ask if it was a good one but he exercised his self-control and sat down in one of the visitor’s chairs, instead of stealing the kiss he’d been aching for. 

“Oh yeah?” Dean kept his tone light. “Tell me about it. Maybe it was a memory? Oh, wait, here are some fresh clothes for tomorrow.” He reached down and picked up the duffel he’d placed on the floor. Castiel gave him a grateful smile, clad in the last of the tee-shirts and sweats Gabriel had brought earlier in the week. “ And here’s a razor. Have I missed Dr. Roche already?”

“Yes, but only because he got here early, some emergency. I told him I wanted out as soon as I could and he said he’d talk to us later and see what he could do,” Castiel said, and Dean felt a surge of relief at taking Cas back home where he belonged, despite the fact that his husband didn’t remember it.

“ Awesome.”

When Dr. Roche did stop by, he strongly suggested waiting another day and in a compromise, promised to sign Castiel out himself, first thing in the morning. 

Dean wound up helping Castiel shave when he got a little dizzy standing up so long in the bathroom. Dean could tell it took a lot for Cas to ask for help but he relished in staring into Castiel’s baby blues as he gently swiped the razor through thick, white cream. Dean kept things light, telling anecdotes about him and Sam when they were kids and Castiel soon relaxed at their close contact, Dean standing between his knees as Castiel sat on the toilet lid, jaw being tilted for a better angle by Dean’s strong hands.

“So. Tell me about your dream,” Dean said, turning Castiel’s chin a little towards the right before carefully sweeping with the blade, nearly finished with the job. The temptation to press his lips to his husband’s gorgeous mouth was painfully strong, yet somehow, Dean refrained.

“We were on this dock and it was very quiet. You were sitting in this lawn chair, fishing and I was just behind you. We were watching the sunset. ”

Dean pushed down the excitement, not wanting to get his hopes up that Castiel seemed to be remembering some things.

“I was having a crisis of faith. My views and my parents… they’ve never been the same; yet, I never argued with them. It didn't seem worth it. I don't know why, but in my dream I was telling you about it. It felt very real.”

“Yeah, well, it should. That first summer you stayed with us, before we were together, like a couple, you know? We would go camping on the weekends. You’d never been, which blew my mind because, hello, you grew up in freaking New Hampshire, how have you not been camping?” The amused look on Cas’ face was so familiar that Dean’s eyes stung. He pushed through it and continued. “So we’d hit the state parks, Myles Standish, Wompatuk, Shoawme-Crowell. First time we went, you were wearing that damn trenchcoat of yours the whole time, even though it was seventy-five degrees out,” Dean chuckled. “ That ugly one your Uncle Jimmy had given you when you were a kid?”

“Gabriel always said I looked like a flasher in that coat. I don’t know, my Uncle Jimmy was a great guy. I know my father hated that they never mended fences before he left,” Castiel said. It was something they had spoken of often over the years. Jimmy had been Cas’ father’s twin and they’d had a falling out over how the church should be run. Castiel had told Dean that he had come by the house to make his goodbyes to Gabriel and Castiel. Cas had been around eleven and heartbroken that his favorite Uncle was leaving and Jimmy had given his young nephew the coat as a keepsake and Castiel had started wearing it as soon as he’d grown tall enough, although it always hung a little bulky on him. 

“Uncle Jimmy sent letters at first, but my mother kept returning them and eventually, they stopped. I know my father regretted it though. I would catch him, staring at these pictures of the two of them, that he kept in this little locked box on his desk.” Dean knew all this but let Cas talk it out anyway. “Anyway, we were on this dock and I can’t quite remember what we were talking about but I do remember a gorgeous sunset.”

“We were talking about how you had stories you wanted to tell that didn’t fit in with your family’s version of heaven and hell,” Dean said. ”Beliefs that were on a whole other spectrum from theirs. I remember, you nearly whispered it, like, you were going to get in trouble for saying it out loud. You said — _I have questions, I have doubts. I don't know what is right or what is wrong anymore_ , _but I do know that their way is not a path I want to follow_. I was so proud of you.” Dean rubbed the back of his neck, the admission making him feel a little silly but Cas’ soft look as he observed Dean made it worth it.

Dean took it as progress when Cas didn’t urge him to leave at the end of the day. Instead, they played cards on Cas’ small bed tray, while they drank hospital ginger ale and watched whatever happened to be on the Food Network. Castiel quizzed him with questions ranging from as innocent as  _ what’s your favorite color _ to as bold as to  _ how often do we participate in anal sex _ ? Dean had a hard time deciphering Castiel’s expression when he’d assured him that they had a very active and satisfying sex life. It was clearly a mix of eager curiosity and intimidation but he didn’t press Dean for any more information. It reminded Dean of when he and Castiel had first become intimate. Castiel had so many questions and was shy but determined about asking them. It was no surprise, despite his initial inexperience in the area, that Castiel and his bluntness tended towards dominance when it came to their sex life, often reducing Dean to a needy, fucked out mess. His Castiel was anything but shy now and it was a trip to be with this version of him again, so curious and unsure.

An hour or so after a bland dinner of chicken and rice with a tapioca pudding dessert, Dean found TBS airing The Princess Bride. Dean stretched out on the visitor’s cot, the thin hospital blanket surprisingly warm. The last thing he saw before drifting off himself was Castiel smiling at the screen as the narrator said:

_ Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind. _

The next morning came quickly and Dean rose from the cot and stretched his body, groaning as his joints popped. He found Cas’ eyes on him as he sipped from a disposable cup of tea. 

“Go get dressed,” Dean urged, “and when you’re signed out of here, I’ll take you to breakfast. Sound good? Unless you’re too tired or…”

“Dean,” Castiel’s mouth turned up in a half-smile. “I’ve been in a coma and the only food I’ve had since has either been beige or from a tube. I’m more than happy to get breakfast.” The simple admission had a huge smile blooming on Dean’s face and he couldn’t even be bothered to be embarrassed about it.

“Yeah, okay. Go on. Dr. Roche should be here soon.” 

By the time Cas was finished in the bathroom, Dr. Roche was already there. He gave them a list of things to look out for and scheduled a follow-up appointment before signing off and letting them leave. Castiel grinned when he saw Dean holding up his trench coat. As per hospital rules, Cas had to be wheeled out, so Dean ran out ahead to get the car so he could pick up Castiel out front.

The look on Castiel’s face when he saw the Impala was the same as it had been the first time and had Dean tossing his head back in a laugh as he took Cas’ bag with his dirty clothes from him so he could get in the passenger seat. 

“This is your car?” Castiel asked, hand stroking down the shiny black paint of the roof. “I’ve only seen cars like this in parades or car shows,” he said wondrously and Dean laughed again.

“That’s word for word what you said the first time you saw my Baby. Well, my other baby.” Dean couldn’t help the wink this time and watched Castiel’s cheeks darken. “Come on, get in.”

“She’s a 1967 Chevy Impala,” Dean began as he started her up. “Don’t get a chance to ride her much but we always talk about moving to a house by the beach and away from the city.” Dean chanced a side glance at Cas to see if he was listening only to find his heavy stare already resting on him.

“She feels… welcoming,” Castiel said and Dean had to swallow past a lump in his throat. They’d had a lot of memorable moments over the years in this car.

Castiel didn’t say anything more as Dean drove closer to their loft, stopping a few blocks away at their favorite diner. 

_ Moseley’s Diner  _ was a no-frills kind of place. The food was good, and hot, and straight forward. No foam or crema, just good old fashioned burgers, pot roast, and mac and cheese. Comfort food. This was where they studied for finals, and where they celebrated victories after battles in Moondoor. It’s where they had breakfast after staying up all night making love. To see Castiel get out of the car and look at the plain white building with its blue awning without an ounce of recognition was painful.

The unassuming restaurant’s owner, Missouri, was waiting for them behind the glass door before they even made their way up the walk. Dean briskly ushered Cas in out of the cold, just barely remembering to pull his hand back from it’s usual resting place on the small of Cas’ muscular back. 

Castiel had barely made it all the way through the door when Missouri pulled him into an embrace. Castiel’s face showed his obvious shock but he still allowed himself to be hugged with a soft smile.

Dean cleared his throat. “Uh, yeah, Cas, this is Missouri Moseley. She’s the owner of this fine establishment and a good friend.” Missouri was a lovely woman, with rich brown skin and dark knowing eyes, and warmth exuded from her comfortingly. Dean watched as she cupped Cas’ cheeks, brushing his salt and pepper stubble with her thumbs.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly. “It’s gonna be okay, I promise. Just have faith and trust in here,” Missouri said, moving one hand from Cas’ cheek to rest over his heart. "Now go on back to your table and let me talk to your husband a minute,” she managed to command with kindness, gesturing towards the back of the diner where their usual table was, a steaming carafe of coffee already waiting for them. Castiel shot him a curious look before doing as he was told. 

Dean’s abject misery must have shown on his face as soon as Castiel walked away because Missouri gripped him by the shoulders and got right in his face.

“Listen here, child. I don’t wanna see you giving up or doing anything stupid in your grief, you hear me, Dean Winchester?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“That boy loves you and he is going to feel heartsick enough for putting you through this when he comes back to himself,” Missouri warned and Dean’s breath hitched at the words. “Now go sit down and Krissy will be over with your lunch.” Her tone brook no argument and Dean found himself feeling better for her brisk words. She’d never been wrong, not even once since he’d known the wise, intuitive woman and Dean took heart in that. He rolled his shoulders and walked to his husband. 


	4. Chapter 4

Castiel sat in the red vinyl booth and poured himself a cup of steaming hot coffee from the carafe into one of the plain squat mugs before him. Taking a sip, he found it rich and strong, just the way he liked it. Unlike his tea, Castiel preferred his coffee black and undoctored. 

It wasn’t quite noon, yet the diner was still pretty busy, more than half of the tables occupied, the low murmur of chatter filling the room but not obnoxious enough to be distracting. Castiel watched from his seat as the woman who’d hugged him, Missouri, seemed to be giving Dean a pep talk of some kind. The man tried to put on a brave face but Castiel had amnesia, he wasn’t blind, and he could see very clearly how devastated Dean was by their current situation. The heartbroken look in Dean’s eyes tugged at his heartstrings and he felt an urge to comfort in a way he had never had before. It was instinctual, the way he wanted to take care of this virtual stranger. Easy love and affection was not something Castiel was used to feeling. Aside from Gabriel and his Uncle Jimmy, Castiel was not close to his family. There were no maternal hugs or father/son fishing trips when Cas grew up. Truth be told, Castiel had more of a bond with Joshua, the family gardener, than he did with his parents. Castiel thought it was only fair that he would have a hard time adjusting to this new world where he was deeply in love and fulfilled in life when all of his current memories screamed that the idea was impossible.

But when Dean looked at him with his whole heart in his eyes, it didn’t seem impossible. Castiel wanted to believe that the cold, impersonal life he had always known, was now over a decade in the past; that instead of being engaged to someone he wasn’t in love with, he was happily married to the true love of his life. It was even easier to believe when he had looked in the mirror that morning. 

Finally giving in, he’d faced himself head-on. Castiel saw the laugh lines on his face first. His hair was still perpetually messy and dark but his deep blue eyes had crinkles that spoke of good times. He was definitely older but he found himself wanting to know this stranger reflecting back at him. 

Castiel sipped at his coffee as he watched Dean’s bow-legs stride towards their table. 

“Sorry ‘bout that,” Dean said with a sheepish smile. 

“Dean, never apologize for needing the comfort of friends. I can’t pretend to know how this feels for you, but I can imagine, and for that, I am so sorry. Have we known her long?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean said as he added a sugar packet to his coffee. “All of us took our turns waiting tables at Moseley’s when we were in college. Anytime we needed a little extra cash, Missouri was always willing to let us take on a few shifts.”

Castiel was so caught up listening to Dean, he almost jumped when a steaming plate of pancakes was set before him, along with bacon and a maple syrup dispenser. Across from him, Dean had the same with an extra side of sausage links and hashbrowns.

“Thanks, Krissy,” Dean said, bacon already half-way to his lips.

“That is a lot of food, Dean,” Castiel said ominously but Dean only bit into a sausage and sighed in satisfaction.

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, Cas, dig in.” Dean proceeded to add some of the golden brown hash browns to his plate.

Castiel let out his own moan of pleasure when that first syrup and butter-covered bite of pancakes hit his tastebuds. Maybe it was all the hospital food, but this diner stack tasted like the best thing he’d ever eaten in his life. As he licked his lips, he found Dean’s eyes following the movement of his tongue, only to blush when he was caught staring. 

“How long did we live with Gabriel and Sam? I’m trying to imagine it. Gabe and I annoy each other endlessly,” Castiel remarked, smiling his thanks when Krissy came back with two tall tumblers of orange juice. 

“Living with Gabriel and Sam wasn’t bad but we never had any privacy, you know? Couldn’t really do romantic dinners at home, couldn’t have sex whenever we wanted. Sharing community space was hard — it seemed like every study group on campus congregated at our house. We stuck it out through the last two years of school, then I sold the condo and split the money with Sam. Sold it for more than Dad bought it for but only because Sam and I put a lot of work in over the years.”

“And us? You said before that we had a nice place?”

Dean nodded over a mouthful of hashbrowns, chewing and swallowing before he answered.

“You and I bought a great two-bedroom loft. Lots of space, lots of windows for light. Sam and Gabriel’s place is only a few train stops away.

Castiel took a long sip of his juice before setting it down, shaking his head.

“What?” Dean asked and Castiel smiled at his look of bewilderment. He really didn’t understand how impossible this all seemed to Castiel.

“It’s just all so surreal. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear this was a djinn dream, but seeing as though that’s unlikely.” A gasp had Castiel’s eyes flying to Dean’s.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Castiel questioned as Dean seemed to freeze in surprise.

“You know what a djinn dream is?” the words were cautiously asked and Castiel cocked his head.

“Of course. A Djinn uses it’s poison and keeps you trapped in your own mind, tricking you with the life you always wanted, all while feeding on your blood until you die,” Castiel paused, wondering _where the fuck_ that information came from? “How do I know that?”

“It’s from your books. The _Supernatural_ series? It’s about two brothers who travel the country fighting off supernatural creatures, and saving people,” Dean told him and Castiel couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped. _The Family Business_. He’d always had a fascination with mythological creatures. Castiel could remember making up stories about them in his head when he was younger; a family, close-knit, unlike his own, fighting the good fight together. He never dreamed he would actually ever do something with his imaginings. 

“It’s been six years now since you were first published,” Dean continued. “I was still working at Rufus’ shop and you were teaching philosophy when you finally let someone aside from me read your work and sent it along to some publishing houses. Crossroads Publishing picked it up and they’ve been really stand up. Luckily, you just finished a tour with your latest novel and don’t have any conventions or signings coming up anytime soon.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” Castiel said bemusedly, as he pushed his nearly empty plate of food aside. He hoped he didn’t regret how much he ate later.

“You okay?” Dean reached his hand out and squeezed Cas’ before seeming to remember himself and pulled away. “Well,” Dean said a little awkwardly and Castiel watched as his hand shook a bit before finally steadying around his coffee cup, bringing it to his lips for a sip. The nervous tell twisted something inside of Castiel and he wished he knew how to make it easier. 

“We had agreed on taking some time off anyway. We both agreed we needed some time alone together. Between doing the art for _Supernatural_ , I’ve also been taking on commissions, we’ve both been doing the con circuit, plus your tour schedule, and it’s been crazy. We talked about maybe taking Baby on a road trip to California, and staying in some private house on the beach. You, me, sand between our toes.” Dean’s voice was wistful and it made Castiel’s throat tight.

“I don’t see why we can’t still do those things,” Castiel finally said when he had his emotions under control.

“What, really?” Dean sounded both so surprised and hopeful, that this time, Castiel couldn’t help reaching over and grabbing his hand. He resisted the urge to look around and see if anyone was watching, reminding himself that he was _allowed_ to have this.

“Really. Dean, I don’t _know_ you, but I _feel_ like I do. I want to remember our life together. I don’t know how long it’s going to take for us to recover, for _me_ to recover, but everything I have seen since I woke up, everything I feel? It tells me that this is a life I want to know again. I just need you to be patient with me.”

Dean squeezed his hand tightly, thumb rubbing against his ringless finger. “I can do that, Cas,” he said gruffly and Castiel smiled.

“One more thing, before you take me home. Where is my wedding ring?” Castiel watched as a smile slowly bloomed on Dean’s face, radiant in its brilliance. Dean tugged a chain from around his neck. On it was a bronze amulet of the bull-man, a horned God. Alongside it hung a ring that matched Dean’s exactly — a wide silver band with a flat circle head, that was both understated and unique at the same time. Dean slipped the chain over his head and opened the clasp so he could remove the ring.

Castiel took a deep breath and held his hand out and he noticed that Dean’s own hand was shaking as he carefully slid the ring onto Castiel’s finger.

“There,” Dean said tremulously. “Back where it belongs.”

* * *

  
  
Castiel’s nerves kicked up on the way to the loft. Back at the diner, Cas couldn’t deny that he had secretly hoped that in true fairytale style, the return of his wedding ring would magically trigger his brain; that he would immediately be overcome with an onslaught of memories. Of course, since his life was not a made for tv movie or a paperback romance, he knew the odds of it happening were slim to none. Didn’t make him any less disappointed, though.

Dean said they lived in Pine Grove, a little suburb of Quincy. As Dean took the turn into the entrance of Grace Falls Lofts, he pointed out at the signs. 

“Bus stop is right down the block, and the T station is one further on the left. We mostly take the train during the week, unless we’re traveling far or just feel like taking a drive,” Dean explained as they pulled into their designated spot. The Apartment complex was three stories high and made of brick. The lawn was manicured, backlit by a forest of pine, and Castiel saw that there was a playground for children, one of which was screaming hello at them from the top of the slide.

“Hi, Mr. Dean! Hi, Mr. Cas! You all better now?” The child couldn’t be more than five, with dark hair peeking out from underneath a Spiderman pom-pom hat and a round face beneath that with two missing front teeth.

Beside him, Dean chuckled as he grabbed Cas’ bag out of the car before he had a chance to.

“Yeah, Jesse, he’s much better now. Thanks, buddy.”

“Hey, Mr. Cas?” Jesse beckoned with his small hand, eyes wide and serious “Didja ya make sure Mr. Dean checked your ears a’fore you left? Uncle Frank says the govern men will try’n hide things in there.” The words were said in a loud whisper and Castiel side-eyed Dean when he tried to smother a laugh with a cough.

“Yes,” Castiel said, knowing that was the correct answer in this situation. “He made sure.”

That seemed to satisfy Jesse well enough to return to his position as king of the slide. He turned to Dean as he let himself into the building, following him down a short hallway to the elevator.

“What was that all about? And who are the ‘govern men’?” Castiel asked, dryly, watching as Dean pressed number three and waited for the door to close. Dean leaned back against the wall as they made their ascent.

“ You and your air quotes,” Dean replied with a grin. “That’s Jesse Turner. He’s a sweet kid. His family lives on the first floor. His Uncle Frank is the town Librarian and a conspiracy theorist. You always call him one of the _Lone_ _Gunman_ ,” Dean said as the elevator dinged. “They’re from this show called-”

“ _The X-Files_ , I know. I remember having to sneak to watch it when I was a teenager.” Dean merely nodded at Cas’ words, the information probably not news to him. 

The doors opened up on a long hallway. The carpet was a dark patterned grey and high windows were lit with the midday sun that gave the illusion of being warmer than the forty-five degrees it actually was. There were gorgeous sketches of the city framed on the blush-colored bricks. Something about the work seemed familiar.

Dean paused outside of the elevators.” So, there are five units in this building: One on the first floor, two on the second, and two on the third. The first floor also has a communal gym, sauna, hot tub, and swimming pool.” Castiel followed as Dean took a left and recited facts about the luxurious building like a realtor trying to make a sale. “Everyone is on opposite ends so you don’t really see too much of each other aside from the elevators. You’re not much for the gym, you’d rather run or do yoga.” Dean stopped in front of number four and pulled his key out to unlock the door. “We do use the pool from time to time but not the hot tub. You say it’s-”

“A breeding ground for germs,” Castiel finished, knowingly and Dean grinned as he ushered Cas inside the loft.

“We have our own jacuzzi anyway,” Dean said from behind him as Castiel took in the open floor plan in front of him. 

The floors were beautiful cherry hardwood. A long, rectangular, marble-topped, island bar with four stools, also in cherry, in front of it, separated the living room from the kitchen. Castiel noticed the large charcoal sectional sat on a sage-green floor rug, and the cherry-toned end tables with drawers on each side. The far left wall across from the sectional had what looked like a sixty-five-inch flatscreen and a built-in entertainment center with bookshelves, filled with DVDs and books.

Beyond the living room area, were two rooms, the first looked like a large office. He followed Dean inside and saw a drafting board and an easel set up next to a long, wide window seat on the left side of the room. A shelf laden with drawing and painting supplies took up the rest of the wall including folded dropcloths that Castiel imagined covered the hardwood floor whenever Dean was working. A large mural of a what appeared to be Dean’s car shining under the moonlight took up the back wall. In the twilight sky between the shadows of trees, an angel with shining black wings dipped in indigo, rose up with his head tossed back and facing the moon, face obscured. Castiel couldn’t stop looking at it, how the colors swirled, with hints of green and deep purple hidden in the depth of the feathers, like the light shining on a black oil spill.

Castiel dragged his eyes away from the wall to the simple black desk with a Grumpy Cat plushie guarding a picture frame and a closed laptop. Castiel could see post-it notes littering one side of the desk with his messy scrawl all over them. A flintstones jelly jar sat on top of a spiral-bound notebook holding a sundry of pens, pencils, and highlighters. 

“Have a seat,” Dean gestured. “It’s your writing desk.”

Castiel pulled back the computer chair and settled himself in the seat. He studied the picture frame on the desk; it was of him and Dean, and judging by the matching black tuxedos-although the ties were different-Castiel’s blue and Dean’s green, he could tell it was a wedding photo. They were stood on what looked like a gazebo style platform, surrounded by twinkle lights. Their foreheads were pressed together, soft smiles on each of their faces, arms locked around each other’s waists. He picked up the frame and noticed the snow falling in the background. His heart sped up as he looked up and locked eyes with Dean. He was looking at Castiel with such tenderness and longing that made him curse his memory loss, yet again.

“Dean, there’s snow in this picture. When were we married?”

Dean seemed to straighten up, his expressive face now a stoic mask.

“New year’s eve, 2008.”

Castiel could only stare as he realized what had happened.

“The party we were at… that was for us?” 

“Tenth anniversary,” Dean confirmed and Castiel’s eyes dropped back down to the photo, wishing there was something he could say that would erase the haunted look on his husband’s face. As it was, he felt sick to his stomach that something that had been such an obvious celebration had ended so terribly.

“Come on, let me show you the rest of the loft.” Dean’s voice was rough and he didn’t wait for Cas before leaving the room. Castiel followed him back out and noticed that he ignored the room next to the office to lead him into the kitchen. Next to the pantry, there was a short hall that led to the guest bathroom and laundry room that smelled of patchouli and fabric softener. Cas saw a stereo system and a treadmill and on the floor were two pairs of running shoes and a rolled-up yoga mat. A smaller flatscreen graced the wall as well and across the room was a washer and dryer. 

“You prefer running outside, but weather,” Dean said with a shrug as Castiel’s eyes scanned everything, feeling a bit like someone being shown an apartment for rent. Everything was beautiful and so much to his taste, and yet, it was unreal to him that he could have all of this and not feel at all connected to it.

Dean had apparently left the bedroom for last. Castiel’s mouth dropped when he entered. A long mahogany dresser sat against the same wall as the door, a flatscreen mounted on the brick wall above it. Most of the hardwood was covered in a soft, chocolate and sage, braided, floor rug. The back wall of the room held a king-sized bed with a high headboard that matched the dresser, with built-in cabinets. The comforter was a deep rose and looked thick and soft and inviting. Castiel tried to imagine sleeping in the bed and for a second he could easily see himself, on his side, with Dean pulled tight to him, back to chest. The vision was so clear that he could only assume it was a memory.

To the right of the room was the ensuite bathroom and he noted that Dean wasn’t joking about the jacuzzi tub. The vanity was only one sink, but it was large, a smooth marble with flecks of rose and gold. A glassed-in shower wide enough for two and a toilet that Castiel saw with a laugh, was heated.

“Don’t laugh, that was all you. You’re always cold and we had that installed the second year after we moved here.”

Dean showed him the closet which to his surprise, was large enough to walk in. There were a decent amount of suits, but also what looked like costumes. _Larping_ , Castiel remembered Dean saying. There was a deep open box on the floor and Castiel was surprised to see it open and filled with a variety of pipes and bongs. A few small mason jars of cannabis were in the box as well causing Cas to turn towards Dean.

“Are we potheads?” Castiel found himself asking and Dean let out a bark of laughter.

“We smoke a fair amount but we don’t abuse it,” Dean said. “Now, why don’t you rest up a little bit? I’ll come and wake you in an hour and we can talk about anything you want, and if you’re not up for that we can just watch some TV. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Dean, I am not the least bit tired. I feel like I’ve been sleeping forever.” Castiel knew he sounded dramatic, but sleep was the last thing he wanted to do right then. 

“How about a soak in the tub, then?“ Dean suggested and Castiel admitted that actually sounded really wonderful. Dean offered to show him where everything was but Castiel was sure he could figure out where the towels and washcloths were himself.

“Okay. You’ll have to use my shampoo but your favorite apple bomb is under the sink. We just picked up a new batch a few weeks ago,” Dean said, a wistful look on his face before he shook his head, leaving Castiel to it.

Castiel turned on the taps, letting the water heat up. Without conscious thought, he opened the linen closet and pulled out a large bath towel and reached in the back where the fluffy washcloths were, somehow knowing exactly where they were hidden. He blushed when he saw the bottle of Astroglide in a couple of different flavors. His fingers drifted to the raspberry flavored one and felt a flutter in his stomach as he held the bottle. He couldn’t help but wonder about it; about he and Dean’s sex life. Did Dean use his thick fingers to slick and open him up or was it the other way around? Castiel tried to imagine himself confident enough to explore another man’s body like that and it felt so far removed from the person he remembered being. Yet, he couldn’t deny that the image of Dean on his knees hasn’t played in his head more times than he would like to admit. It both frightened and aroused him, the powerful picture it made, and Castiel palmed himself as desire rocketed through his body, shocking him at its intensity. 

Forcing his hand away from himself, Castiel braced his hands on the sink and looked in the mirror, cataloging himself as he’d done in the hospital. He was no longer the chaste twenty-six year old he remembered, whose only carnal touching was by his own hand. Castiel stared into the deep blue of his eyes and it was fascinating to see that he looked _wiser_. He had lips that have been kissed, a body — more thick and muscular than he remembered — that had been touched. He had so many questions and he knew Dean would answer them, but the young man he once was was not as brave as the older, knowing incarnation of himself in the mirror.

Castiel heaved a heavy sigh. He could only pray that his memories returned to him, for both he and Dean’s sake. Castiel reached under the sink for the bath bomb and dropped it into the tub, the jets making it froth immediately. Cas stripped where he stood, and tossed his clothes into the wicker hamper, another reflex that surprised him but he took as a good sign. Castiel sank into the jacuzzi tub and exhaled a breath he wasn’t aware of holding. The almost too hot water was loosening muscles that he hadn’t realized were so tight. He turned off the tap and breathed deeply. The familiar scent of crisp apple soothed him. Castiel dunked his head under the water and slicked his hair back from his face. He leaned back against the tub and closed his eyes. Despite insisting he wasn’t tired, he could have dozed if he let himself, though, he didn’t relish the idea of falling asleep in the bath. Castiel was tempted to add more hot water and hide but he wasn’t a child. He quickly lathered his hair up with the half-full bottle of shampoo, claiming to contain cinnamon bark and black pepper. A warm feeling came over him as the spicy scent mingled with the apple bomb body wash; it reminded him of Dean and his car. Their combined fragrance had permeated the leather interior creating an intoxicating fragrance. 

Castiel flicked the drain and rose from the cooling water and shivered. He reached for the towel he’d placed on the wide lipped edge of the jacuzzi and rubbed his head vigorously before drying his body. When he stepped out of the tub he nearly slipped as he noticed his reflection in the bathroom mirror, something black on the skin of his upper back. Castiel craned his neck, eyes widening and he gave a startled yell.

He heard the pounding of footsteps and Dean’s voice calling out. 

“What the fuck!? Cas, baby, you okay?” Dean barrelled in the bathroom door, a panicked look on his face. Castiel nearly shrieked, eyes widening as he stood naked in front of Dean. He fumbled with the towel as he tried to cover himself up, his frantic movements his downfall as Castiel slipped, losing both the towel and his footing. He was both grateful and embarrassed when Dean caught him to his firm chest by the forearms with a solid grip. Castiel’s damp body left wet marks on Dean’s teeshirt as he stood clutched against him.

Castiel appreciated that Dean’s eyes didn’t stray from his own, ever-mindful of Castiel’s discomfort. Once he was stable, Dean stepped back and bent down to pick up the towel and shake it out. Wordlessly, he handed it back to Castiel and he quickly wrapped it around his waist.

“Thank you,” Castiel said, and his gravelly voice sounded more than a little mortified.

“I’m sorry,” Dean began. “I know I shouldn’t have run in here but I heard you yell and I didn’t think… I can’t not come when I hear you yell, Cas. I just can’t.” Dean’s voice was pleading, begging Castiel to understand and he found himself reaching out to grip Dean’s shoulder, watching as he seemed to shudder at the touch.

“It’s okay, Dean. I told you, you can’t keep apologizing for acting the way you normally would around your husband.” The words seemed to relax Dean, his lips even curved up into a smile.

“I gotta admit, Cas, this isn’t how I normally act when you’re naked in the bathroom,” Dean teased with a playful wink that had Castiel rolling his eyes, even as he recognized the attempt to lighten the awkward tension. “You gonna tell me what you were upset about?”

Dear lord, he’d been so distracted by his state of undress around Dean, he‘d forgotten what had startled him in the first place. He turned towards the mirror again, twisting sideways.

“For starters, the enormous tattoo I appear to have on my shoulder blades and draping down my back. Is that… is that the angel wings from the portrait in our office?”

“Yeah,” Dean said, turning around to fish something out of a drawer, pulling out a wide handheld mirror. “That picture is actually the cover art for your first book. Here, check it out.”

Castiel took the mirror and used it to look at his reflection. Ink black wings with swirling hints of blue and purple graced his shoulders and back. They seemed to ripple like feathers in a breeze when he moved and Castiel couldn’t believe that such a stunning piece of art made its home on his body. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. What shocked Castiel even more, was that despite his astonishment, the lifelike image felt like it _belonged_ there.

Castiel put the mirror back in the drawer and turned to face Dean. “Tell me more,” he demanded.

Dean chuckled and backed up, “Sure. Go get dressed and meet me on the couch. We’ll throw something on and I’ll tell you all about it.” Dean’s words reminded him that he was standing in nothing but a towel and that Dean seemed to be doing his damndest to not drop his gaze. It showed Dean’s character and his obvious respect for Castiel and it made Castiel want to invite him.

“Dean, may I make a suggestion?” Dean’s expression was bemused, but he nodded.

“Yeah, of course you can, Cas.”

“Don’t be such a gentleman,” he said, nearly laughing at how fast Dean’s brows rose.

“What?” Dean folded his arms tight to his body as though to keep from fidgeting and a rasp of laughter escaped Cas’ lips.

“I only mean, if you want to look, you can look. I appreciate that you value my feelings and the effort you are going to just so that I am comfortable. I imagine it isn’t easy.” That was an understatement, Castiel knew. “If my memories are going to return, I feel like maybe you shouldn’t censor yourself so much.” Castiel watched as Dean’s eyes briefly widened and he wondered what had just gone through his husband’s head. Dean chewed on his bottom lip and his fingers were curled into the material of his shirt, where his arms were crossed. Finally, he only nodded and quickly left Castiel to get dressed.

Castiel was sad and disappointed because judging by the way Dean all but ran out, somehow, his words had only seemed to make things worse. Castiel glanced over his shoulder again, eyes catching the gorgeous feathers on his skin. When he walked out of the bathroom he saw that at some point, Dean had laid out a tee-shirt and flannel sleep pants for him.

Castiel got dressed and padded barefoot out of the bedroom. He saw two steaming mugs sitting on the coffee table, one coffee, the other tea. There was a small pipe and a baggie of weed on the table as well. Castiel laughed at himself when he felt a little thrill in his veins at the idea of doing something he only remembered as being illegal and frowned upon. A thick black and yellow striped blanket had been placed in the corner of the couch and Castiel knew just by looking at it that it would be as soft as a cloud. 

Dean hadn’t noticed his presence yet, too engrossed with what he was doing. Dean was crouched in front of the DVD player tucked into a built-in wall shelf. His eyes were lit on the TV screen. Castiel immediately knew it was their wedding video because the background and clothing matched the picture framed on his desk. He couldn’t hear what was going on because the volume was too low but whatever it was the Castiel on-screen whispered in his ear caused the Dean on-screen to toss his head back in laughter only to be dragged back by the Castiel on-screen into a deep kiss. Watching, he felt butterflies winging in his stomach. Castiel must have made a noise because Dean spun around so fast he nearly fell over. His eyes were glistening and for a second he looked as though he were going to apologize, though he’d done nothing wrong. Instead, his shoulder drooped and he heaved out a sigh.

“I forgot I left this in here.” Dean pressed eject on the DVD player and the image of him and Dean in an intimate liplock disappeared. “We are that sappy couple who watches their wedding video every anniversary,” Dean’s smile was sheepish and Castiel found himself observing him softly, as he made his way to the couch and sat down, blanket over his lap.

“I think I like that,” Castiel said and the smile that bloomed on Dean’s face was dazzling.

“Really?” Dean’s voice was pleased as he rose and came to stand in front of Castiel. He reached out and took Dean’s hand, pulling him down onto the sectional.

“Yes. It’s sweet and unexpected. Just like you, Dean. Now, tell me about my tattoo.”


	5. Chapter 5

Dean hurried into the kitchen after leaving his half-naked husband behind to dress in the bedroom. He didn’t know how he was going to do this. His insides were quaking with the effort to be calm and collected when all he wanted to do was break down and cry. Don’t censor himself?  _ Seriously _ ? If he didn’t, Cas would run screaming in the other direction. Castiel had no idea how hard it was for Dean to fight his instincts to get down on his knees like the good boy his Cas knew him to be and offer himself up to do as his husband pleased.

Dean put a tea bag and a little bit of honey in a mug and used the Keurig for hot water. He set the drink aside to steep for Castiel before brewing himself a cup of coffee. Not that he needed the extra stimulation, there was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight, comfortable couch or not. Dean grabbed the milk from the fridge and stopped to stare at the picture Castiel had tacked on the door the morning of their anniversary. It was his husband’s cheeky attempt at one of those ten-year challenges floating on Facebook, a side by side comparison of the two of them, ten years apart. They were sitting close in a dimly lit corner of The Roadhouse, table cluttered with drinks, empty shot glasses, and a candle. Their very first official date after he had broken things off with April. The second picture was damn near identical, taken just two weeks before, after a late dinner with Sam and Gabriel. Dean hadn’t even realized that Cas still had the original picture saved on his phone. Castiel had paired the photos into one picture collage with the caption that read  _ Ten years later and still the love of my life. _ It was sappy and romantic and he absolutely teared up when Castiel had presented him with the picture. 

Dean brought their drinks into the living room, placing the steaming mugs on the coffee table. He opened the cabinet underneath and pulled out Castiel’s favorite blanket and their daytime stash of weed. Even if Cas didn’t want to indulge, Dean knew it would help his nerves. 

Dean decided to pick out a movie and sank down in front of the entertainment center searching for something good for background and decided on  _ The Princess Bride _ , one of Castiel’s all-time favorites. Dean used the remote to switch on the TV and immediately froze. He’d forgotten that he never took their wedding DVD out of the player. A fresh wave of grief hit him, tears stinging his eyes as he watched himself on-screen with the love of his life. 

What if Cas never looked at him like that again? Dean needed a moment to catch his breath and taper down the longing that welled up inside of him. When Dean heard the soft intake of breath, he jolted. He didn’t know why he was acting like he got caught doing something wrong. When he met Cas’ gaze, Dean found stormy ocean eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t name. 

“I forgot I left this in here,” Dean managed to say, ejecting the DVD and blinking back his tears as the Food Network came quietly to life behind him. “We are that sappy couple who watches their wedding video every anniversary.” Dean was surprised to see Castiel smiling at him. 

“I think I like that,” Castiel said with a soft smile, after settling on the couch and snuggling under the blanket. 

“Really?” Dean knew he was beaming when he came to stand in front of Castiel. His heart skipped when Cas looked up at him and reached out a hand. Dean took it and found himself tugged down onto the sectional next to him. 

“Yes. It’s sweet and unexpected. Just like you, Dean. Now, tell me about my tattoo.”

Dean glanced at the television. “I was gonna put something on-”

“This is fine, I'm much more interested in us than I am in whatever’s on tv.”

Dean relaxed a bit at that. Cas seemed sincere. It was bizarre, sitting and having a friendly (nerve-rattling) conversation with Castiel. It reminded him so much of the early days of their friendship. Cas always sat a little too close and stared a little too long and Dean had been drawn like the proverbial moth to a flame. It was no different now; Dean felt that gravitational pull strong as ever, and Cas was his anchor.

To stop himself from touching where he shouldn’t, Dean handed Castiel his cup of tea, still steaming. 

“This is very kind of you, Dean. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Dean said after taking a swallow of his coffee. To busy his hands, Dean grabbed a bud out of the baggie and began breaking it up. He almost asked permission but Cas had asked him to stop censoring himself, and since he couldn’t indulge in other natural habits, he went with this one. He packed the bowl full in case Cas decided to join him.

“That pipe is gorgeous,” Castiel said, obviously admiring the beautiful glasswork, and Dean didn’t disagree. It was a medium-sized, handmade pipe in swirling colors of cobalt and evergreen.

“Our friend Rowena made it for your birthday last year. She’s a glass artist and fucking amazing. Most of our stuff comes from her shop.” MacLeod’s Menagerie was Rowena’s store. She carried mostly one-of-a-kind and artisanal merchandise like blown glass vases and ornaments, cutlery and sculptures. Rowena featured many local artists, including Dean, who had sold quite a few sketches and paintings out of her space. Since doing the art for Cas’ series, he’d developed quite a fanbase. 

“She’s very talented,” Castiel remarked as he studied it in Dean’s hands. “When did I start smoking?”

Dean laughed, hand paused in the act of lighting the bowl. “The first night we met,” Dean lit the bowl and inhaled, chest tight as he held it in-an admirable feat considering the adorably flummoxed look on his husband’s face. He exhaled with a soft cough, chuckling as Cas tried to process his words.

“You, uh, you showed up a day earlier than you were supposed to. Your mom was giving you grief over feeling the need to go out of state to go to school when you could have taken classes at home,” Dean explained and offered the bowl to Cas before continuing with the story, who surprisingly took it with practiced ease. “Your dad was cool with it, but your mom was afraid that it would drive a wedge between you and April,” Dean said, the name a little bitter in his mouth.

Castiel lit the bowl like a pro and inhaled. His eyes closed and a small smile played about his lips before he released the fragrant smoke without so much as an  _ a-hem _ . 

“I can see that. I… I remember wanting to experience the freedom Gabriel was experiencing. I don’t remember going to Dartmouth but I remember that I had made the decision to do so. I remember I was putting it off because of April.” Castiel took another hit. “I didn’t know how she would react.” Castiel’s voice was strained with the smoke in his lungs, making it more guttural than usual and Dean felt a familiar stirring that he immediately squashed down. Dean had a few kinks and Castiel’s whiskey and gravel tone was definitely one of them. 

Dean took the bowl back from Cas and puffed it before putting it down on the table. He exhaled before he spoke again. 

“April was okay with it at first. Said she thought it would be good for you. Wasn’t ‘til about a month in that she started getting pissy with you about it. But anyway, yeah. You showed up, s’like eleven o’clock at night. Gabe wasn’t even home but I was up. I’d been painting for a class project and it took a bit for me to hear the door, but I was ready for a break at that point. I’d seen your picture before,” Dean said and he noticed how rapt Cas’ attention was on him and for a minute it almost felt normal. “So, I knew who you were. You were even sexier in person,” Dean chuckled as Castiel’s brows rose. “But, you were off-limits and straight, so I thought.”

“So, you just invited me in and offered me drugs?” Castiel asked with a grin and Dean laughed. 

“Kinda? You were all twitchy and shy because Gabriel wasn’t there but you were also keyed up from the fight with your mom so I grabbed your bag and gave you a beer. Told you to sit on the couch and vent.” Dean still remembered the shy, intrigued young man that Castiel had been — the one who had taken up his offer and basically unburdened himself to a stranger. “I rolled a joint and I could tell you were curious.”

“Gabriel used to sneak marijuana back home. I was always too afraid to try it. I must have been trying to impress you,” Castiel said with a soft smile and Dean nodded.

“Maybe,” Dean said, picking up the bowl again for a deep hit. “You took to it real easy,” he gestured at Cas who was smoothly partaking despite his lack of ever remembering doing so. “Just kinda became our thing.”

Dean watched as without instruction, Castiel took the cashed bowl and tapped the ash into his hand, then swiped it into a little tin ashtray that he took out from the side table drawer. Castiel noticed him staring and Dean could see when it dawned on him what he’d just done.

“Fuck, it’s so weird when I do that,” Castiel muttered. “It’s like everything but my mind remembers.”

It was in that moment that Dean realized that he had been so lost in his own grief that he kept forgetting how difficult this must be for Cas.

Dean pushed down his nerves and took Cas’ hand, lacing their fingers. “I know this is scary and fucked up. But you are going to be fine.  _ We _ are going to be fine.”

“But what if I never remember, Dean? What happens to us then?”

Dean didn’t want to give that fear any acknowledgment, so, instead, he sent Castiel his most charming smile. “Then I guess I’m just gonna have to make you fall in love with me all over again, won’t I?”

“Thank you, Dean.”

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

“Thank you, Dean.”

Castiel wondered if Dean understood; if he felt the true reach of his words. _Thank you for thinking of me. Thank you for putting up with this. Thank you for having faith_.

Castiel tugged on his bottom lip with his teeth, still so many questions swirling in his head. He settled on asking about his tattoo, ready to hear how he had acquired such artwork.

“After you came out to your parents,” Dean began, “and things ended the way they did, you said you needed to figure out what you were going to do. You weren’t going to follow in your father’s footsteps and take over the church, be the perfect little preacher and live a false life.” Dean smiled at him softly. “You decided to put what classes you’d already taken toward something you enjoyed and started working on your teaching degree instead. But while you did that, you began seriously writing as well,” Dean nodded his head to the kitchen and rose to grab their mugs. Castiel followed him with his eyes over the open floor to the kitchen where he put them in the sink then turned the oven on to pre-heat.

“You were fascinated by angels and how they were depicted in so many different ways,” Dean continued as he went about the kitchen, pulling an aluminum casserole dish covered in foil from the fridge. Castiel decided to watch from the barstool instead of the couch. “Tree-toppers, cherubs playing harps, instead of their true warrior persona. The angel in your series, Emmanuel, he’s a true warrior angel. Doing God’s work, no matter the consequence, despite whether or not he thinks it’s right or wrong, because angels are above all of that.”

Castiel took in Dean’s words, resonating with them deeply. It was like he already knew what was coming.

“You started having this angel explore the what-ifs of it all. Would an angel trained so fully by his father and brethren to never question and only obey, ever know what it’s like to truly live?” Dean grabbed a loaf of Italian bread and a cutting board and a serrated knife and began slicing it in half. Wordlessly, Castiel went around the long island to the refrigerator and pulled out a tub of butter and shredded Italian cheese, stopping at the pantry to get a fresh clove of garlic, shrugging when he handed it to Dean. He was almost getting used to the creepy way he seemed to know to do these things.

“It wasn’t until you had Emmanuel start to fall for one of the characters that you realized how much of yourself you had put into him,” Dean said as he peeled and chopped the garlic into a fine pile. “I had started sketching all these scenes that you would kind of bounce off of me and when you saw how I had drawn my interpretation of Emmanuel and his wings, which admittedly, looked a hell of a lot like you, you were kind of stunned. Said it was just like you dreamed them and that was it.” The oven beeped and Dean stopped for a moment to place the surprise casserole in the oven. “Our friend Pam is a tattoo artist and we brought her the design and the rest is history.”

“I should probably read my work,” Castiel murmured, startling a laugh out of Dean as he layered butter, garlic, and cheese on the bread, letting it sit on a foiled cookie sheet until baking time. “What are we having with this,” he gestured towards bread.

“Chicken broccoli alfredo, it’s like, your favorite comfort food. Got the recipe from Missouri years ago. She used to make a pan of it every time we worked a weekend shift and send it home with us as study food,” Dean said with a grin.

Dean pulled an Angry Orchard from the refrigerator and offered one to Cas, popping the top when he said yes. Dean set a timer on the built-in microwave and joined Cas at the island, settling onto the stool next to his.

“Is there anything you can’t do?” Castiel teased, enjoying the light-hearted look that came into Dean’s green and gold-flecked eyes.

“If there is, I ain’t tellin’.”

“You have a tattoo of your own, I saw. What’s the story behind that?” Castiel looked pointedly at Dean’s left shoulder and let out a gasp when Dean whipped off his tee-shirt, showing off his own body art. Castiel felt no shame in cataloging how beautiful he thought Dean was. There was a flaming pentagram on his left pectoral in black, which was intriguing, but it was the red handprint gripping his left deltoid that had Castiel’s hand seeking Dean’s skin. It was warm and freckle dusted and when his hand fit perfectly over the mark he felt a near electric charge at the point of contact.

“Uh, yeah, I don’t know if you are ready for that story yet,” Dean said the words lightly but there was something dark and intimate in his eyes that had Castiel yearning for something he wasn’t quite sure of. Castiel angled closer, seeing how every finger lined up with the red ink. The hard muscles of Dean’s arm trembled under his touch and there was an unmistakable feeling of pride and possessiveness the action caused in him and Castiel had to force himself to let go.

“What if I want to know,” the words slipped out and Dean gave a raspy laugh. 

“Let’s just say it involved body paint, and staking claims,” Dean said and Castiel could tell that was as far as he was going to get with that story. “Now this one,” Dean said, pointing at his chest. ”Sammy and I got these as soon as he was old enough. It’s a protection symbol, he’s always been into that superstitious shit.”

The kitchen began to smell heavenly, the aroma only getting better when Dean put the garlic bread in the oven. They ate at the island bar and Castiel asked about Dean’s work, what other authors he was collaborating with? He learned that Dean was working on commissions of oil paintings of classic cars for the Heritage antique car museum and that he sometimes did designs for Pamela’s tattoo parlor. 

Castiel insisted on helping with the dishes, not that there was much, and they talked some more. Dean told Cas how he hosts storytime once a month at the town library which brought up another subject as the pair settled back down in the living room with bottles of hard cider. Dean had just pressed play on _The Princess Bride_ — a choice that made Castiel very happy — when he blurted:

“What about kids? Is that… was that something we ever talked about?”

Dean paused the intro and turned on his cushion, angling towards Cas. “We’ve talked about it, yeah. You had been resigned to having them with April but the truth is, we both enjoy our time alone together. We like taking off whenever we want. One time, we stayed a month in some hotel in Pontiac Illinois because you needed to be where Emmanuel made his introduction,” Dean laughed. “Truth is, as much as we both love kids, hell, I practically raised Sam, we both agreed that we wanted the fun and not the responsibility. S’why we’re such good godparents to Eve and Ruby,” Dean grinned at him, plucking his phone off the end table and opening up the gallery. He handed it to Castiel and he scrolled, finding picture after picture of him and Dean playing with an adorable set of dark-haired twins.

“This was Eve and Ruby’s third birthday party last fall,” Dean said and Castiel’s heart melted as he saw a picture of himself being fed a spoonful of ice cream by a little girl with a mischievous smile, while Dean held her replica high on his shoulders. Castiel scrolled and landed on a picture of himself sandwiched between a young blonde in her twenties and a boy who looked to be about sixteen and, quite remarkably, resembled himself so much it was jarring.

“That’s your Uncle Jimmy’s kids,” Dean said and Castiel gasped.

“I’m in touch with Uncle Jimmy?” it came out a whisper and Dean cursed under his breath.

“Yeah, babe, I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Jim, man, he reconnected with you and Gabe about eight years ago?” Dean cocked his head as he questioned his calculations. “Yeah, ‘bout that long. He’d tried to keep in touch with you guys growing up but his letters kept getting returned-to-sender, so he finally stopped. When he heard through the grapevine how you and Gabriel rebelled against your family, he searched you out.”

“They seem young for someone his age,” Castiel couldn’t help but observe and Dean chuckled.

“His wife, Amelia, is younger by about fifteen years. You’d never know it, the way they are with each other. The girl is Claire. She’s smart as a whip and sarcastic as fuck. She’ll be twenty this year. The boy is Jack. He’s seventeen and he is so much like you, it’s ridiculous. They’re all gonna be pissed they weren’t around for you during this whole thing. They’re doing some family bonding cruise in Alaska for winter break. Seeing the northern lights and all that.“

Castiel scrolled again and found a picture of himself and Gabriel and a man who was unmistakably his Uncle Jimmy sitting around a card table. They were all laughing uproariously at something and Castiel could feel himself smiling as he stared at the picture. He raised his gaze to Dean who was watching him with undisguised love and affection in his eyes.

“Thank you, Dean. You have no idea how much peace this gives me. I can’t wait to see them again.”

“You got about a two-week wait till they get home. They live over in Springfield. I’ll make sure you get to see them when they get back.”

Conversation tapered off but Castiel was okay with that. He was enveloped in a feeling of peace and familiarity and when Dean brought a freshly packed bowl up to his lips Castiel felt a stirring in his body watching his pretty pink lips purse as he inhaled from the pipe. It almost shocked him, the feeling foreign but also _right_ in a way he couldn’t put into words. 

They watched another movie, something called _Zombieland,_ which was both funny and disgusting and by the end of the night, Dean and Castiel wound up shoulder to shoulder and sharing his blanket. When Castiel let out a jaw cracking yawn, Dean nudged him.

“Baby, you should go to bed.” The endearment, which had seemed so strange in its casualness the first time he’d heard it, now seemed so intimate and meaningful and Castiel was glad that Dean wasn’t trying to stifle himself from using it.

“I don’t know why I am so tired, it’s not even that late,” he found himself complaining and Dean laughed softly beside him.

“Your brain has been through trauma, Cas. It just needs more rest than usual right now,” he said kindly and Castiel couldn’t stop himself from leaning forward and placing a chaste kiss on Dean’s cheek. Spicy cinnamon and leather washed over him as he drew Dean into an embrace. He felt his husband tense for a minute before allowing himself to relax into the hug. Hands ran soothing trails up his back and if Dean’s fingers clenched in the fabric of Castiel’s tee-shirt seeking comfort, then he was more than willing to give it.

It was Dean who drew back first, a faint flush gracing his cheeks and making his freckles stand out. “Go on, get some rest. Sam and Gabriel are coming over tomorrow to see you and we need to go grocery shopping.” He said it with fake enthusiasm even though there was a grin on his handsome face.

It sounded so ordinary and domestic and wonderful and Castiel smiled widely. “I look forward to it,” Castiel said as he rose from the couch and folded the blanket. He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezed. “Goodnight, Dean. Sleep well.”

“Thanks, Cas.”

* * *

  
  
Castiel expected to be plagued with dreams when he finally crawled into bed that night, after all of the stories and pictures. Instead, as he cocooned himself in soft blankets, surrounded by the scents of apple, cinnamon, and leather, he drifted off feeling safe and more eager than ever to get to know Dean on an even deeper and possibly more intimate level. 


	7. Chapter 7

  
  


Castiel only woke up once during the night to use the bathroom and then crept out into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. He could see Dean sprawled out on the couch, moonlight spilling in through the windows and creating shadows and geometric patterns on his body. The television was on, a message asking if he was still watching something called  _ Doctor Sexy.  _

Castiel couldn’t stop himself from going to him, drawn to the sleeping man like a magnet. Dean had kicked the blanket—  _ Cas’ blanket _ — off of him in his sleep, one leg sprawled on the floor, the other bent on the cushion. Dean’s profile showed dried tear tracks and Castiel gasped audibly at the sight. The reminder that Dean’s brave face during the day was just a facade. Without thought, Castiel crouched down and pressed a light kiss to Dean’s forehead. He held his breath as Dean shifted, a soft, “Love you, Cas,” drifting from his lips. Castiel’s throat was tight as he was overcome with what he could only describe as grief. It was frightening, being in tears for someone his head didn’t recognize but his heart clearly did. He found himself stumbling back to the bedroom as he curled back up under the covers and wept until sleep pulled him under again.

The next time Castiel awoke it was to the delicious smell of bacon. His eyes were gritty and his head pounded as though he were suffering from a hangover but Castiel knew it was from crying. His stomach grumbled in response to the enticing smell of breakfast but Castiel went into the ensuite bathroom to relieve himself first and attempted to make himself look less like the train wreck he felt like.

Going to the drawers Dean had shown him were his, Castiel pulled out some fresh boxer briefs and socks then hunted up a long-sleeved teeshirt and worn pair of jeans. He found Dean in the kitchen, singing under his breath as he expertly flipped an omelet. 

“Rise and shine, baby,” Dean said, without turning from the stove. “Already stuck your pod in the Keurig,” he told Castiel and he slid the omelet onto a waiting plate. Dean added a few slices of crisp bacon from where they sat resting on a paper towel covered dish.

Going with instinct, Castiel carried his coffee with him as he accepted Dean’s plate and with his eyes wide on Dean’s, he leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his husband’s cheek.

“Thank you, Dean. This looks delicious,” he said and admired the slight flush that crept up Dean’s face. Castiel watched with amused affection as Dean scratched at the back of his neck, bashful expression at such odds with his everyday confident demeanor.

“No problem. Go eat before it gets cold,” Dean said and ushered Castiel to sit down while he finished cooking his own breakfast. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. Only woke up once. That mattress is amazing.”

“Memory foam,” Dean said with a wink and joined him at the island to eat, only to jump right up again. “Wait, here.” Dean opened the cupboard above the coffee maker and pulled out a sleek cell phone. “This is yours,” he said, sliding it across the table. “They gave it to me after the… after the accident. Thought you might like to look through it. You have a fuckton of pictures on there, and notes, or whatever.”

Castiel took the phone and typed in 0124 to unlock the screen although he had no idea how he knew to do so.

“You remember the code?” Dean asked, trying and failing to hide the hope in his deep voice.

“0124. I don’t know, it just came to me. It feels important.” He stared down at a picture of Dean looking pissed off at some snowflake lights and felt the corner of his lip lift in a smile. Disgruntled Dean was still adorable Dean. He only glanced up when Dean chuckled.

“It’s my birthday. The first year we were together I never told you when it was and it pissed you off. I pretty much ignored Birthdays growing up so it wasn’t important to me.” Dean looked at him with an aching tenderness that had Castiel swallowing hard. “When you found out you made it your passcode for pretty much everything which is completely unsafe, by the way,” Dean teased. “You said that the day I was put upon this earth should always be celebrated,” he finished softly.

They sat there, side by side at the island, eyes locking intimately, just observing each other.

“We have something special, don’t we Dean?” It was more of a statement than a question and Castiel felt something swell in his chest at the breathtaking smile he received.

“Yeah, we do, Cas.”

Castiel felt warm all over and his eyes drifted again to Dean’s smile, and his lovely pink lips. Darting out his tongue to wet his own, Castiel looked up and caught Dean’s gaze again. He was looking at Cas with such affection and patience and  _ need _ .

“May I kiss you, Dean?” Castiel’s voice was hushed but steady and he watched as Dean’s brows rose in surprise before he nodded.

“Course, Cas. You never have to ask, okay?”

His answer was to lean into Dean, lifting a hand to rest on the soft fabric of his tee-shirt. Castiel slid off the stool and crowded in closer to Dean. Dean accommodated him by turning in his seat and creating a vee with his legs for Castiel to stand between. He breathed in cinnamon and leather as his other hand crept behind Dean’s head to massage the nape of his neck. The soft gesture had Dean hitching his breath.

“Is this okay?” Castiel asked, but Dean only nodded, bringing his thumb up to rub at Castiel’s furrowed brow.

“Yeah,” he replied, voice a little shaky, “Yeah, keep going.”

Castiel felt the light touch of Dean’s hand on his back, careful even now, not to scare Castiel or make him uncomfortable and it was that last act of selflessness that had him pouting his lips out, catching Dean’s softly. The feeling of Dean’s full bottom lip pressed between his own felt incredibly right and Castiel was soon sighing in Dean’s mouth, his body now fully pressed against Dean’s as he silently asked for more. Dean let out a muted moan as his hand clenched in the back of Cas’ shirt, lips parting so Castiel could explore tentatively. Coffee and bacon danced on his tongue, but it was the unique flavor of Dean that had him breathless. Castiel took the kiss just a bit deeper, falling into a natural rhythm, lips catching sumptuously, as kissing Dean was like coming home. The heat of his body aligned against his and Dean’s teeth gently worrying Castiel’s bottom lip had him stirring in his pants and it was the shock of that reaction that had Castiel startling back.

Dean’s lips were kiss-swollen but his eyes were concerned as he observed Castiel’s ragged breathing and no doubt wide-eyed expression. Dean didn’t let go of him but he did relax his grip.

“You okay, Cas?” The words were said lightly but Castiel could hear the trepidation in Dean’s voice. Castiel found himself nodding, wanting to reassure.

“I’m fine.” He sounded hoarse “It’s just, a lot.” He didn’t expand and Dean didn’t ask, seeming to understand. “I’m not used to my body reacting that way.” Castiel flushed as he said it, but wanted to be as honest as he could with Dean, despite the embarrassment. “I’m not ready to… I know it’s stupid,” Castiel shook his head. “We’ve already done this, it’s not new, but I just-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” Dean took his hands angling his face until Castiel met his stare. “It’s not stupid. What we have or haven’t done? That doesn’t matter, cause right now, this is all brand new to you, and I know it’s scary. I remember how scary it was for you the first time.” Dean brought one hand up to cup Castiel’s cheek and he felt himself relax as Dean brushed his thumb across his stubbled cheek. 

“There’s no time limit, here, Cas. We go at your pace, and your comfort level. Truth is, I’m ecstatic just to hold your hand.” Dean said and Castiel laughed. 

“Ecstatic is a little much, don’t you think,” Castiel teased and Dean barked out a laugh, squeezing Castiel’s fingers.

“That’s just cause you don’t remember how much I like your hands.” Dean said it with a smirk and lascivious wink that had Castiel huffing out a laugh even as he blushed. Dean stepped back, releasing his hands and Castiel had to squash down his disappointment, even though he was the one who had needed some space. 

“Howzabout you come shopping with me? Sam and Gabe are coming by for dinner later, we need to restock on blow pops and rabbit food.” Dean grabbed their plates off of the table and gave them a quick rinse before putting them in the dishwasher, while Castiel wiped down the island. 

“I’d like that,” Castiel said, feeling almost shy after their intimate moment in the kitchen.

Dean went to the closet, pulling out their coats and hats and tossing Cas’ set over to him. “Don’t argue with me about it messing up your hair, it’s fucking cold outside.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Castiel said, biting back his protest at the thick wool hat that was bound to turn his already messy hair into static central.

* * *

They took the car, driving to a supermarket about fifteen minutes from the house, choosing warmth and speed over waiting in the cold for the bus and lugging back bags of food. Plus, Castiel was really enjoying this hand-holding thing. 

Dean parked in the back of the  _ Stop and Shop _ parking lot, grumbling about how there had better not be some dumbass teenagers doing donuts and hitting his baby. 

They continued to hold hands on their way into the store and once they stepped inside Dean grabbed a grocery carriage. 

“Normally, we play this game where we split up the list and whoever gets all their items first is the winner. But, considering you probably don’t remember the layout of this store, we should probably stick together.”

Castiel cocked his head in curiosity. “What does the winner usually get?”

“Depends,“ Dean said as he grabbed a few cans of chicken broth and put them in the carriage. “Sometimes we play for tv rights, other times we play for blow jobs.” Castiel blanched, looking around to make sure no one was listening and Dean laughed loudly. Castiel only rolled his eyes, following along down to the meat section where Dean picked up a package of sweet Italian sausage.

“What are you making tonight?” Castiel asked as the carriage began to accumulate more things; heavy cream, butter, kale.

“ _ We’re  _ making sausage and kale soup. It’s one of your favorites, and Sam won’t bitch because it has greens in it.” Dean grabbed a bag of small golden potatoes and tossed them in with the other groceries. 

Dean had done a lot of the shopping before Castiel had come home from the hospital but they meandered around anyway, drifting over to the pharmacy section. 

“Babe, you wanna grab the shampoo? You’re almost out,” Dean asked as he picked up toothpaste and mouthwash. Castiel glanced up and saw that the hair products were in the next aisle. Castiel’s eyes scanned the shelves until he found the  _ Suave juicy green apple  _ that he recognized from home. He picked it off the shelf and moved along the aisles. He wondered if he needed razors?

“Hey, Dean, how are you?”

Castiel’s ears perked as he heard someone in the next aisle speaking to Dean. The voice was aiming for sympathy but for whatever reason, it set Castiel’s teeth on edge.

“Michael. I’m fine, thanks. This store’s a little outta your way, isn’t it?” Castiel couldn’t help but notice the chilly tone in the way Dean spoke.

“Yes, well,” the smooth voice replied, ”I was visiting my sister. She said Castiel is home from the hospital? I do hope he’s alright. I’d heard he was a little… off?” Castiel rounded the corner to see a handsome dark-haired man with his hand on Dean’s shoulder. An unpleasant feeling coiled in his stomach at the sight.

“Your sister shouldn’t be gossiping about patients,” Dean said and the irritation in his voice was obvious. “She could get fired for that.” 

“Oh, you know Becky means no harm. But really? How is Cas? Is everything alright with you two? You know I’m always here if you ever need to talk.”

Castiel felt anger build in his stomach at the gall of this person. Castiel may have been a novice but he recognized the blatant invitation cloaked in Michael’s ‘concern’. Castiel found himself striding over, arching a brow in challenge when Michael noticed his approach and dropped his arm. Upon closer inspection, Castiel noticed he was sporting the vestiges of a shiner, and he felt a thrill of satisfaction in seeing it.

Castiel slipped his arms around Dean from behind and hooked his chin over his shoulder. “You have everything we need, sweetheart?” Castiel moved from behind Dean to beside him and slipped an arm around his waist.

Dean betrayed no surprise to Michael at Castiel’s sudden proximity, if anything he relaxed into his touch. “I think so. Ready to get out of here?”

“Well, I see my sister’s tales were greatly exaggerated,” Michael said before Castiel could respond. Castiel knew he wasn’t imagining the coldness in the man’s eyes as he sized him up and he bristled under the stare. “But Dean, my offer still stands.”

"My husband doesn’t want or need anything you have to offer,” the words were growled out before he could stop them and Castiel leaned into Dean even further as he was overcome with dizziness. He vaguely heard Dean call his name as Castiel’s head swam. He was remembering something, it was there, just on the edge of his consciousness. Castiel growled in frustration as whatever was fighting to come back to him drifted away.

“Cas? Cas, baby?” Dean’s voice, drenched in worry, drew him back to the present and he offered a weak smile.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry, I’m okay. Just a little dizzy,” Castiel’s eyes focused around him and he noticed Michael was gone. When did he leave?

“Were you remembering something? Do you have a headache? Maybe we should go to the hospital?” Castiel could see Dean was panicked and he reflexively reached out, closing his hand over the handprint tattoo hiding underneath Dean’s clothes. The action seemed to ground him and Castiel squeezed gently.

“I’m fine. I don’t have a headache, and yes, I think I was starting to remember something, but it’s gone now.” Castiel couldn’t hide the disappointment and he welcomed it when Dean gathered him in his arms, pressing a kiss to Castiel’s forehead.

“You’ll get there, Cas, but I do think we should head home so you can lay down.”

Castiel wanted to argue. He knew that Dean had wanted to spend the day taking him to some of Castiel’s favorite places and he hated to disappoint him. However, the worried expression on Dean’s beautiful face had him holding his tongue.

Dean paid for their groceries and they walked out into the parking lot. Dean insisted on Castiel getting into the passenger side while he put the bags in the car.

“Dean, I’m fine, I promise.”

“And I believe you. Now get your fine, possessive, ass in the car.”

Castiel, flushed at being called out, slipping into the car and buckling his seatbelt. He waited until Dean was settled and the car was started before he apologized.

“I’m sorry, Dean, I don’t know what came over me.” He was feeling pretty ashamed but Dean didn’t seem angry at all. If anything, he appeared amused.

“It’s okay, Cas, I’m used to it.” Dean glanced at him then laughed again as Castiel stared at him in shock.

“What does that mean?”

Dean merely shrugged, slowing to stop at the red light.

“You’re possessive. It’s hot, I like it.” Castiel merely gaped at him.

“You like that I’m immature and jealous?” he asked incredulously, but Dean shook his head.

“It’s not jealousy; not really. It’s a respect thing. Bugs the shit out of you when people don’t respect our marriage.”

“He practically propositioned you right in front of me,” Castiel bit out darkly, the memory of that moment inciting his anger again.

“Yeah, well, you two have hated each other since the day you met,” Dean said matter of factly and Castiel was curious. 

Castiel scoffed. “Can you blame me? Making blatant unwanted advances towards you like that?”Castiel chewed on his lip as he observed Dean’s profile. “They were unwanted, weren’t they?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Of course they are unwanted, Cas. Ain’t nobody I want but you,” Dean’s answer was blunt and honest as he drove, eyes focused on the road, yet Castiel felt like there was more to this story. He wondered if Gabriel and Sam would be able to provide him with more information.

Castiel insisted on helping bring up the groceries when they returned back to the loft. In return, Castiel promised to go and take a nap. He hated that he was so tired all of the time. He knew it was normal, Dr. Roche had told Castiel he would be like this for a little while until his body fully recovered.

“But I was supposed to help you cook.” Castiel gave one weak protest as Dean ushered him into the bedroom.

“I’ll let it slide this time,” Dean teased, nudging Castiel towards the bed and tucking him in playfully. “Now stop whining and go to sleep,” Dean said as he carded his fingers through Castiel’s hair.

“I’m not whining,” came the petulant response and Dean chuckled lightly.

“It’s in your tone, baby,” Dean said before bending to kiss Castiel’s brow. “I love you, now rest. I’ll wake you if you go too long.”

Castiel stared up at Dean and marveled at how exquisite he was, words he felt but wasn’t ready to say nearly spilling out. “Okay, Dean.” 

Castiel wasn’t sure how long it took him to fall asleep. He remembered hearing Dean move about the kitchen and the sound of pans on the stove and then suddenly, he was dreaming.

_ New Year’s Eve 2006 _

“Why?” Castiel whispered to himself as he paced back and forth. “Why is this happening now?” He felt out of his mind. What was  _ wrong _ with him? He was practically engaged to marry April. Dean was his friend. Dean was a  _ man _ . So why the hell did seeing him kiss that creep, Michael hurt so badly? His heart felt heavy and nausea coiled in his belly. So caught up in his turmoil, he jumped when a hand gripped his shoulder, spinning him around.

“Cas? Hey buddy, what’s going on?” Dean asked, concern etched in his tone. Castiel came to a halt, trench coat swishing at the abrupt stop. Despite the lack of personal space, neither man moved. Castiel could see the flecks of gold in the deep green of Dean’s eyes as they danced around, searching Castiel’s face. What was he doing here? Why wasn’t he with Mr. Perfect out there? For a moment, Castiel’s eyes drifted down to Dean’s mouth, staring at the lush pink of his lips, stomach aching again at the thought of Michael being allowed to have what he was finally understanding he wanted. Castiel raised his eyes to Dean’s again, a staring contest where Dean appeared to be waiting him out, contemplation no doubt etched on Castiel’s face as he came to grips with his feelings. The urge to be in Dean’s presence, the way everything came to life when Dean shared his space, the brightness of his soul taking up the whole room. How Castiel always felt safe and comfortable when Dean was around. He had  _ never _ felt that way with April. Not once. Dean made him feel included. He didn’t mind having to explain modern pop culture to him, and he seemed to enjoy introducing Castiel to the joys of vinyl records when they would lay in his room and listen to music together. “ _ The Scratch is part of the magic _ ,  _ Cas _ ,” Dean would tell him.

“I saw you kissing Michael. I didn’t like it.” It was blunt and honest. “I couldn’t stand to watch it.” Castiel watched as Dean blanched. Then his beautiful face hardened into a severe mask as he arched a brow, is if in challenge.

“Got a problem with two guys kissing, Cas?” 

The inquiry was sharp and Castiel rolled his eyes at Dean’s misinterpretation. Crowding up on him, Castiel placed a hand on Dean’s chest and leaned in close. “Don’t ask stupid questions,” he rasped, before his hand began to climb up the front of Dean’s tee-shirt to the collar of his leather jacket, toying with the buttery material. “My family’s beliefs are not my own and if you think I don’t know what’s going on between our brothers, you must think I’m blind.” As Dean blanched, Castiel chuckled as he realized that though he hadn’t missed the connection between Gabriel and Sam, Dean clearly had. Castiel observed as Dean’s face went through a myriad of emotions ranging from shocked to disturbed until finally, his handsome features settled on wickedly amused.

“Oh, I am gonna fuck with them so much.” The joy was evident in Dean’s voice and Castiel couldn’t help the wide smile that bloomed over his face at seeing Dean happy. Another moment passed between them, eyes locked on each other, but no words passing their lips. The New Year’s Eve party was still going on outside of the kitchen. Castiel was surprised they hadn’t been interrupted yet as he found himself moving ever closer to Dean, their chests a hairsbreadth from touching, and Cas’ fingers lightly resting on Dean’s nape having abandoned the jacket’s collar.

“Cas, what’s going on here?” Dean asked, not unkindly.

“I don’t know,” Castiel answered honestly. “I like to be near you… and it bothers me when others are near you.” The intake of breath was audible as Dean brought his own hand up to rub Castiel’s cheek, brushing his scruff with a calloused thumb.

“Michael was drunk, if you hadn’t taken off to the kitchen you would have seen me push him off of me.” 

“Oh.” It came out as a whisper as Castiel took that final step forward, the material of his trenchcoat and Dean’s shirt sliding together as Cas’ hand dragged up the back of Dean’s neck to tangle in his hair. Dean’s other palm came up, and he cradled Castiel’s face and he couldn’t help it; with a soft sound of need, Castiel pushed forward and angled his lips on Dean’s. It was a lingering press of lips, soft and chaste. The way his bottom lip clung to Dean’s when he pulled back to catch a breath, only made him want to do it again. So he did, hands leaving Dean’s hair to grip at his forearms as their lips caught and released and caught again. It was Dean who pulled back, stepping away and taking a deep breath. The kitchen door burst open as one of Sam’s friends, walking the walk of the heavily impaired, carefully made his way to the refrigerator for a Budweiser. He smiled dopily at both Castiel and Dean, and Cas hoped the man didn’t plan on driving anywhere anytime soon.

The silence was heavy in the kitchen when they found themselves alone again and Castiel noticed that Dean had his arms crossed defensively, as though waiting for recrimination. Which was hardly fair, seeing as how Castiel was the one who had lost his mind and kissed his best friend in the first place.

“Cas, you have a girlfriend.” It came out ragged and Castiel’s heart tripped at the longing expression on Dean’s face. “You have no idea how much I want to explore whatever this is,” Dean gestured between them. “I’ve been gone on you since we met,” Dean continued, as though his words hadn’t just shocked Castiel to his very core. “But, I can’t be the other guy, Castiel. Not with you.”

Castiel was moving before he even had conscious thought and wrapped his arms around Dean tightly. “Of course not, Dean,” he murmured into the skin of Dean’s neck, breathing in leather and spice. “I have to speak with April.”

_ Present _

Castiel woke with a gasp, the memory fresh and clear, as though he could reach out and touch it. It was starting to come back.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean packed the bowl, fingers shaking a little bit as he broke apart the bud. It was barely past one and it already felt like he’d been going all day. No one ever told you how the mixed emotions of dealing with one’s amnesiac husband could exhaust you.

He flipped on the television, letting the familiar sounds of Chopped give him a sense of normalcy. Cas kissed him today. The joy he’d felt when Castiel had asked permission had lit him up from the inside. Dean was surprised he’d held it together, in all honesty. It was surreal to essentially have his first kiss with Cas for the second time. He supposed it was fitting that both were just as life-changing. Dean picked up his lighter, touching his flame to the green as he took a deep hit.

Kissing Cas again, Cas initiating that contact… it was almost the answer to his prayers if he believed in such things. He knew it was selfish. Cas was alive, and well, and whole, and that was such a blessing and he should be grateful. He was grateful. And, it wasn’t that Dean didn’t love this Castiel; on the contrary, he loved him just as much as the Castiel who had stolen his heart so many years ago. Memory or not, he was still the same man and Dean would never give up on him, even if Castiel never regained his memories. He needed to somehow make Castiel see that he was worth falling in love with again. Dean would happily carry their past memories alone, so long as they could make new ones forever. 

But, fuck, there were moments when he missed his husband like a missing limb.

Whenever Cas didn’t touch Dean the way he usually would have, it hurt. When he didn’t speak to him in that intimate way that married couples do, Dean’s heart ached. When Castiel didn’t kiss him in that possessive way of his that made Dean feel needed and loved and owned in the best way possible, it was borderline excruciating. When he wasn’t Cas’ sweet boy...

Dean lit the bowl again, coughing slightly as he inhaled a little too hard.

It always amused Dean the assumptions people used to make of their relationship when they heard how Castiel grew up. As if, because he was a preacher’s son, it meant Castiel would be this meek, virginal baby in a trenchcoat; that he would be quiet and repressed — which he had been, a little, but only in the beginning. 

The truth was, Castiel was the dominant one in their relationship. Since that first kiss at that stupid party Sam had thrown when they were still in college, it was always Cas who took the lead. First kiss, first date, first frottage session that made him come in his pants faster than a thirteen-year-old with his first hustler mag. His Cas was blunt, and honest, and took what he wanted, and for reasons he couldn’t explain, Castiel wanted Dean. Castiel had a way of making Dean feel integral and vital to his happiness. He made sure Dean knew he was loved, and in return, praised him for giving that love in so many ways. Dean was supposed to be Cas’ love, his sweetheart, his good boy, and he ached for the times when his husband’s voice took on that liquid-smoke tone and told Dean exactly what he wanted from him.

Being so adrift from Castiel was like losing his touchstone and last night he’d allowed himself to grieve the loss. In the hours he’d tried to sleep on their couch without the strong circle of Castiel’s arms around him, he let the tears fall. Dean cried out his pain and frustration and refused to feel guilty about the release because he’d needed it. 

Castiel kissing him after breakfast felt like a break in the clouds, a reminder that even if things were (forever) different, there was still hope for them. Truth was, Dean truly believed Castiel was his soulmate and he would take him in whatever way he could have him. Dean could only pray that someday, Castiel would feel the same.

Dean still couldn’t believe they’d actually run into Michael. It had creeped him out a little bit, especially after the last time they’d had to deal with him. Castiel had wanted Dean to get a restraining order against the man, but Dean had brushed it off. Yeah, the guy had been hung up on Dean for years, but it had only been in the last year or so that he started showing up unexpectedly in different stores close to where they lived. Weird run-ins at diners, coincidental meetings at the farmers market seem to become common-place. Up until a few weeks ago when Michael had shown up at his apartment when Castiel was out of town, Dean had chalked it up to Castiel reading too much into it; except for this time, Michael had shown up with accusations about Castiel. They were stomach twisting, heart-breaking accusations, that once Dean had the chance to tell him about, had Cas seeing red. Michael had gone too far. Usually, these unexpected encounters led to Dean being possessively ravished at the earliest opportunity. Cas would open him up so thoroughly that Dean would have to fight against coming on just Castiel’s fingers alone. Cas’ cock, thick and uncut, would rut into him while he grunted out a guttural claim over and over again until Castiel crested, hunger satiated. Not that night, they'd both been too upset; but, just thinking about how long it had been had Dean stirring.

Dean palmed himself through his jeans, willing away his hard-on. No matter how much he missed sex, he was not going to jerk himself off on the couch with his husband in the next room. Forcing himself to think of anything besides sexy Cas, Dean finished his bowl and went in the kitchen to get his soup started in the crock-pot.

They’d have to talk about Michael, Dean knew that, but he was putting it off for as long as he could. Castiel had still been sensitive about the whole matter before the accident and he didn’t see how talking about it now would make anything better. 

Dean focused on dinner instead. First, he sliced and seared the Italian sausage then washed and chopped the kale and added both to the chicken broth in the slow cooker along with some salt and pepper, then, he set to work quartering baby potatoes. Those got tossed in as well once they were ready. A pinch of crushed red pepper and that was all that would be needed until he finished it off later with a cup of heavy cream. Dean texted Gabriel and asked him to bring some Italian bread from the bakery when he and Sam were ready to head over. 

Dean enjoyed the warm buzz he was feeling. Making the soup had relaxed him; cooking was a familiar routine. Dean went into the home office to retrieve his sketchpad and a pencil. He settled on the couch; the image coming to life across the page effortlessly. Cas’ face appeared in stages, a dance of charcoal to parchment so natural, Dean could have done it with his eyes closed. The drawing had Castiel leveling Dean with his intense stare, head tilted inquisitively, as though trying to figure Dean out. He felt it apt, considering that is the expression he had seen the most on his husband’s face since the accident.

Dean felt him before he spoke, Cas’ long-fingered hand gripping his shoulder as he leaned over Dean to peer at the picture.

“That’s amazing, Dean. Is that really how you see me?” Dean tilted his head back to gaze at Cas and couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out. There Castiel stood, expression identical to the one on the page, head cocked as he tried to puzzle Dean out.

Dean reached back and tugged at Castiel’s wrist and he took the hint, coming around the sectional to sit next to Dean.

"Yeah, in my head that’s your inquisitive bird look. It doesn’t happen as much as it did when we first met,” Dean said with a shrug, sketching the lines of Cas’ trenchcoat, “but you know me inside and out now, so I’m not that hard to read.” Dean put the sketchpad down onto the coffee table.

“You wanna drink or something? You need your blanket?” The need to please had Dean starting to rise but Cas’ hand locked around his wrist, pulling him back.

“I’m fine, Dean.” Castiel’s voice was warm and gravel-laced and Dean smiled just for hearing it.

“How was your nap?” 

“Illuminating,” Castiel said, as he sat down against the arm of the couch facing Dean. “I dreamt of our first kiss,” the words stole Dean’s breath for a moment. “I’m starting to remember things and I have some questions. Delicate questions,” Castiel arched a brow and Dean felt a flutter in his stomach at the look. 

“But right now,” Castiel shook his head, tugging on his bottom lip with his teeth, then releasing. Dean’s eyes were drawn to the marks imprinted into the pink flesh and wanted to soothe them with his tongue. “Right now,” Castiel continued,” all I want to do is kiss you again. Do you mind?”

“I can guarantee you, that is never something I mind.” Dean didn’t get any further as he swiftly had a lap full of hard muscle and exploring lips as Castiel straddled him, caging Dean's legs with strong runners thighs and invading his mouth with his slick, questioning tongue.

It was pure instinct that had Dean’s fingers chasing up Castiel’s back alongside his neck to finally rest cradling his husband’s face. Dean’s thumbs brushed against Cas’ perpetual five o’clock shadow humming into the kiss when Castiel angled his head to take it deeper. They kissed languorously, slow rolls of tongue undulating against each other and Castiel let out a delicious whine. He drew back, breath heavy as he stared at Dean with lust-darkened eyes.

“I love the way you kiss me,” the sound was raspy with want and Dean felt his dick jump at the sound.

“How do I kiss you?” he managed to ask, fingers combing through Cas’ dark strands, gratified when Castiel leaned into the touch.

“You kiss me like you never want to stop,” Castiel whispered, cupping Dean’s’ face. “Like I’m cherished.“ He paused, shaking his head with a soft smile. “You kiss me like all you’ve been waiting for is the chance to kiss me again.” Castiel leaned forward and nipped at Dean’s bottom lip.

“That’s because I usually am,” Dean said in the space between their lips.

“I found some interesting things in our bedroom, Dean.”

The subject change was abrupt and Dean’s breath caught as he imagined what Cas could be talking about. The cabinet built into their headboard held a variety of things, from lube and dildos, to home videos, cock rings, and a collar that Dean missed having around his neck.

“You do everything I ask you to, don’t you Dean?” The question was asked with a tone of dawning realization and Dean could tell that Castiel already knew the answer. 

“I like making you happy,” was all Dean said before tugging Castiel’s lips back to his. Dean didn’t imagine Castiel was ready for more than this, despite his eager tongue. Dean didn’t mind; he was so sublimely happy just to have this, to have Castiel in his arms, lips against his own, that Dean was positive he could live in this radiant bubble forever.

A rapping at the door had his happy bubble popping, reminding Dean that Sam and Gabriel were coming over. Castiel climbed off his lap with an obvious reluctance that made Dean grin besottedly. The knocking sounded again and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming, short stack,” Dean called out as he went to open the door.

“Don’t be mean to the guy bearing bread,” Gabriel said as he shoved the loaf into Dean’s hands, Sam following behind with an amused expression.

“Hey, Cassie, you settling in okay?” Gabriel asked, heading for the living room to sit next to his brother. Sam followed behind, sitting down next to his husband.

Castiel nodded. “Yes. I am hopeful that being here is just what I need to trigger my memories into coming back.” Dean smiled at Cas’ words, where he sat perched on the arm of the sectional.

“That’s great, Cas,” Sam said, shooting Dean an encouraging smile. “Been sketching?” Sam reached over and grabbed the pad off of the table.

“Just for fun.“

“Yeah, for fun,” Gabriel said with a snort of laughter. ”I’ll bet.”

When Dean and Castiel only looked at Gabriel with twin expressions of confusion, the man reached around and rubbed at Castiel’s cheekbone. Dean flushed, understanding Gabriel’s smirk. Castiel’s cheek and neck were streaked with black from Dean’s fingers.

“Nice charcoal you’re sporting there, bro.”

Castiel rolled his eyes. “Don’t tease, Gabriel,” he said, excusing himself to wash up.

“Hey, I’m just grateful it’s not on your ass like usual,” Gabriel called after him with a laugh, earning himself a smack upside the head from Sam.

“Shut it, or no soup for you,” Dean groused as Castiel returned, face and neck clean of charcoal.

“It’s cold as hell outside today. I think we’re supposed to get a storm. You been out to the store?” Sam asked as Dean took it upon himself to pack another bowl. The soup would need another hour or so to simmer anyway.

“Yeah, we went this morning after breakfast. We didn’t need much, anyway. Why, when’s it supposed to start?”

“Around eight, according to the weather channel,” Gabriel said, taking the bowl from Dean and lighting it. “Sammy’s freaking out about losing power-”

“I have research on that case!” Sam cut in.

“Meanwhile I’m hoping I get to close the bakery for the day,” Gabriel said with a laugh, ”so Sammy and I are enemies today.”

Dean snorted as his brother shot Gabriel his classic bitch-face. “Well, maybe you’ll get lucky and you won’t lose power but the roads will be bad enough to close shop?” he suggested.

“Normally, I wouldn’t want to, but Lily’s been out because May has the flu and Jo is still on maternity leave and I’ve just been working non-stop. You know, when I haven’t been by my coma ridden brother’s bedside,” Gabriel said with a wink to Castiel. “Too soon?” he asked when Dean glowered at him.

“I’m sorry my accident and memory loss have been such an inconvenience,” Castiel deadpanned.

“You should be,” Gabriel teased, voice tight with smoke as he passed the bowl over to his brother. “You seem better, though. More relaxed than I thought you’d be.”

“Dean is very patient,” Castiel said, before taking his hit. 

“In sickness and in health, baby, it’s in the vows,” Dean said it lightly but the tender look Castiel bestowed on him showed his understanding of how hard this has been on Dean.

“Did you guys make it down to the indoor market?” Sam asked, declining the bowl. Sam rarely imbibed unless he was on vacation, finding it much more amusing to watch others indulge, then document any hilarious hijinks for future black-mailing. Gabriel was a horrible influence on his little brother.

“Nah. Cas got a little dizzy when we were out, so we came home.” Dean tapped the side of the bowl and shifted the buds before lighting again.

“What? Are you okay? Should you have gone back to the hospital?” 

Dean sent Gabriel an unimpressed. “Don’t you think we’d be there if we should have?”

“It was fine,” Castiel cut in. “ I have a check-up with Dr. Roche on Monday. It was nice getting out shopping with Dean.” Castiel’s lips tilted in a half-smile as he tugged Dean down onto the couch next to him. “Felt normal.” Dean found himself lost in stormy blue irises. “Felt right,” he finished softly, before scowling. “Even when that presumptuous assbutt showed up.”

“Michael was there?” Sam asked sharply and Dean shot him a warning look.

“Oh, so I see his reputation precedes him,” Castiel snarked.

“He doesn’t live anywhere near your neighborhood,” Sam was apparently unimpressed with Dean’s death glare and continued. “Dean, if he’s following you again-”

“Again?” Castiel cut Sam off and angled his head up at Dean, who groaned in annoyance.

“He’s not following me, Jesus, he said he was visiting his sister. Apparently, Becky thinks manning the nurse’s station means she can gossip with anyone about patients and she told him about Cas’... issue. He used it as an excuse to talk to me.”

“He used it as an excuse to proposition you, right in front of me,” Castiel challenged and Dean sighed.

“Dude’s creepy. Remember how mad he got when he found out you two were a thing?” Gabriel took a hit and passed the pipe to Castiel. “Accusing you of leading him on?” he said, after a harsh cough.

“Yes, because pushing him off at every college party was my secret way of seducing him,” Dean laughed but Castiel didn’t look amused. He never did where Michael was concerned. 

“I thought after Castiel knocked him out he’d have taken the hint,” Gabriel said, earning another glare from Dean.

Castiel choked on his hit and Dean rubbed his back as he hacked repeatedly. “I knocked him out in college?” he finally managed and Gabriel laughed.

“Try last week,” Gabriel said and Castiel’s eyes once again lit on Dean’s. “And you still haven’t told us why.”

“Because it’s none of your business,” Dean barked. He swiped a hand over his mouth and blew out a breath. “Do we have to talk about this?” At this point, Dean would rather forget about that night altogether.

“Yes,” Cas’ tone allowed for no argument. 

Wordlessly, Dean rose and went into the kitchen. He grabbed thick wooden soup bowls and put them on the counter before pulling a cutting board out of the drawer to slice the Italian bread. Sam and Gabriel seemed to know not to follow, twin expressions of apology on their faces. Instead, they turned the television on and left Castiel to go after Dean. 

Dean felt Cas’ eyes on him as he buttered each slice and placed them on a plate. A glance over his shoulder showed Castiel leaning against the refrigerator, arms crossed and waiting. It was a familiar sight; Castiel had never had any trouble patiently waiting Dean out. It was unfair that even now, when Cas’ remembered so little of their relationship, that he still had this power, still knew how to deal with Dean and his moods. 

“I don’t even like thinking about that night, Cas,” Dean started as he ladled out the soup into the bowls to cool, the fragrant broth making his stomach growl. Dean peeked in the living room, then regretted it when he saw his brother and Gabriel making out while they pretended to watch Guy’s Grocery Games. Shuddering, he turned back to Cas only to find him impossibly close, socked feet toe to toe with Dean’s. 

“Talk to me,” Castiel growled softly.

“Trying to intimidate me, Cas?”

“Don’t deflect, Dean,” Castiel’s familiar words had Dean’s pulse quicken. “I find that with you I have no boundaries when it comes to personal space,” Castiel said with no apology and Dean chuckled, giving in and leaning forward to press their brows together.

“I coulda lost you, Cas,” the words came out ragged and Castiel rested his hands on Dean’s chest.

“I’m sorry it hurts for you to talk about the accident. I know that all of this is hard for you. I’m just trying to piece things together and I think if you tell me about what happened that night, maybe it could help? Michael’s voice... ” Castiel shook his head and Dean huffed out a laugh at the grimace Castiel made when he mentioned him, “Something about it seemed to trigger something," he shrugged. "Maybe hearing about this encounter with my fist will too,” Castiel tried for light and Dean appreciated the effort. “We can wait until after Sam and Gabriel leave.” Castiel conceded and Dean let out a grateful sigh. “We can even save it for last. There are other, interesting things I wanted to talk to you about, too.” Castiel arched his brow and Dean froze for a moment as he remembered Castiel alluding to that earlier. Dean wasn’t sure if Cas’ other topic of discussion would any more comfortable. 

Determined to enjoy his dinner, he looked over Castiel’s shoulders and bellowed to his brothers: “Hey! Stop trying to eat each other’s faces. Soup’s ready.”

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Castiel loved his brother dearly. Seeing him happy, the fond way that Sam looked at him, lightened his heart. He especially enjoyed watching his dynamic with Dean. Affection laced every snarky remark, every childish insult; the care beneath the teasing was palpable. Cas longed to be a part of it. He couldn’t help the swell of jealousy at how seamless the three of them were with each other. Anecdotes and inside jokes flew across the table. Throughout the meal, all he could think about was how lame it was how few of the references he understood. He felt left out and frustrated and even though it was small of him, Cas greedily wanted Dean’s infectious laughter for himself.

They weren’t excluding him. In fact, to the contrary, Sam and Gabriel told their accounts for his benefit in the hopes they would perhaps spark something in his mind. Castiel appreciated it but the truth was all he really wanted was to be alone with Dean so they could talk. It wasn’t even about regaining his memories at this point. Castiel was confident they would return. Bits and pieces of their early months together had already started bleeding through, like a small hole in a dam, little snapshots of their life. Castiel remembered him and Dean as they stood in the kitchen where they used to live and how he had broken things off with April that very same evening. Well, technically, she had beaten Castiel to it. When he had left Dean in the kitchen, Castiel locked himself in the bathroom to make an unscheduled phone call to April requesting a lunch date to discuss their relationship. That had been enough of a red herring for his girlfriend and she had made things even easier by ending things over the phone. The sense of freedom he’d felt, Castiel didn’t know how he could have ever forgotten it. He was greedy for more of those breakthroughs and he had faith they would come.

In the meantime, there were a plethora of other reasons Castiel wanted to be alone with Dean; the first one being the cliche way he made Cas’ heart gallop in his chest. Dean, throughout all of this, had made him feel confident in a way he never remembered being before. Dean was his to take care of, his to love unconditionally, because he did love, Dean. It was instinctual, as though his heart had muscle memory. How amazing and terrifying it was it to feel such complete and utter devotion to someone when all you had were photographs and a handful of stories and fractured memories?

Cas often thought back on the day he’d fully woken up and how frightened he’d been. He didn’t think he’d ever forget the anguish in Dean’s eyes when he’d ordered him away. It was only a few days later and Castiel no longer questioned why Dean was special enough for him to finally stand up to his parents and take what he wanted. Even if Castiel were wrong about his memories returning and his past with Dean remained a mystery, it didn’t matter; Castiel knew that Dean was his present and his future.

The run-in with Michael, aided by Castiel’s memory of his first kiss with Dean, had fully awakened a possessive side of himself that Castiel hadn’t known existed before. Just thinking about the chilly way Dean had spoken to Michael, the rigid set of his shoulders, had a need to protect what was his flaring up inside of Castiel fiercely. 

“Would you two stop?” Sam’s whine broke through Castiel’s musings and he looked up in time to see Dean and Gabriel aiming bits of bread into each other’s soup bowls.

“You’re going make a mess and this soup is too good to waste, Dean,” Castiel said over a mouthful, feeling a surge of pride at Dean’s pleased blush. He found he really enjoyed Dean’s response to praise. It not only satisfied him emotionally but seemed to arouse Castiel physically as well, which was fascinating.

After dinner, Sam and Gabriel declined the offer for beer and pie, which Castiel was quietly grateful for, and he fought his inner self not to rush them out the door.

“It’s only six and it’s starting to come down,” Sam said as he handed Gabriel his jacket and tugged on his own beanie. Looking out of the window showed that the snow was indeed falling pretty rapidly. “We should get home. Stay warm you guys,” Sam said, clapping Castiel and Dean both on the shoulder.

“Yeah, and thanks for dinner, Dean-o,” Gabriel said, giving them both a one-armed hug. “Cassie, don’t push yourself.”

“I won’t,” Castiel promised.

“Text me when you get home, Sammy,” Dean said and Sam grinned.

“Sure thing, mom.”

“Shut up, bitch,” Dean shot back.

“Night, jerk.”

Castiel followed Dean into the kitchen after seeing their brothers off and began to load the dishwasher as Dean packed the rest of the soup into a Tupperware bowl.

“Come into the bedroom with me when we’re finished?” Castiel held back a laugh as Dean’s hand’s fumbled the lid, his moss-green eyes flying to Castiel's as Dean apprehensively crossed his arms.

“What? Why?” His nervousness was endearing. Castiel smiled at him fondly, hoping to put Dean at ease. “I thought we could talk there. Maybe put on a movie and curl up together?”

Dean licked his lips, his stance still noticeably tense. “I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Castiel stepped forward until he was close enough to touch, sliding his hand up Dean’s arm and settling over the tattoo hidden under the cotton of Dean’s sleeve. Castiel knew he didn’t imagine the tremble that went through Dean’s body.

“Dean, you won’t make me uncomfortable.” Castiel angled his head up and quirked a half-smile. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that I enjoy being close to you.”

Dean’s slow-rolling smile at Castiel’s words could have put the sun to shame and he was pleased when Dean gave a soft nod.

They took turns using the bathroom and changing into their sleep clothes. Dean went back out to the kitchen and returned with two beers and a bag of Fritos. Castiel took the offered drink, tapping the neck of his bottle to Dean’s.

“So, what would we normally be doing on a Saturday night?” Castiel asked, sitting on the bed and scooting up until his back rested against the headboard. Dean mirrored his movement as they sat shoulder to shoulder.

“I’d tell you it was something more exciting than this but that would be a lie,” Dean confessed. “Fridays we usually do group dinner with friends at The Roadhouse. Sometimes I sing with the house band if I’m feeling it and they don’t have a guest band in,” Dean replied shrugging his shoulders. “ Saturday nights are just for us. We grab dinner, out or in, and just… enjoy each other’s company.”

Castiel narrowed his eyes. “Is that a euphemism for sex?” 

Dean laughed. “Blunt as ever. Don’t ever change, Cas.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Castiel teased, making grabby hands for the chip bag Dean had tossed on the nightstand. Chuckling, Dean handed them over.

“We have sex all the time, Cas. Unless one of us is out of town or we’re just dead tired, if there’s a flat surface, we’re gonna use it,” Dean said matter of factly as he reached into the bag and grabbed a handful of the salty snacks. “Saturday is just great because our time is our own. We can stay up until three am and sleep until noon. It’s how we reconnect when we are both lost in our own creative processes and other day-to-day shit.”

Dean picked up the remote, but instead of turning on a TV show, he put the station on a classic rock music channel with the volume down low. 

“Reconnect in a way that we don’t during regular sex?” The question was out before he could stop himself but Castiel felt like he was on to something and he just needed confirmation.

Dean turned to look at Castiel, eyes searching, and finding what he was looking for, he nodded. An almost bashful smile stole across Dean’s face and it had Castiel’s heart stumbling. Instead of saying more, Dean shifted forward, turning so he could open the cabinet built into the headboard. A variety of lube, dildos, and vibrators greeted him when Castiel peered inside. 

“I peeked in here after my nap today,“ Castiel admitted. “I was looking for a phone charger.” He huffed out a laugh as he allowed himself to delve deeper into the cabinet. There was also black rope, feathers, and a paddle. A handful of DVD cases were off to the side and he dropped the Fritos bag to pick them up, flipping through, expecting to see some kind of graphic pictures of random pornstars on the cover. Instead, there were titles handwritten in his own handwriting: _reverse cowgirl, face-fucking, coming on my fingers, rimming, edging, & prostate massage, docking_. Reading the words had heat crawling in his belly and his dick twitching against his thigh. He looked up from the titles to Dean’s flushed face just meeting Cas’ steady gaze in spite of some obvious apprehension. 

“Are these homemade pornos?” Even the question had his breath quicken and Castiel had to force himself to relax.

Dean turned and opened the drawer of the nightstand. Castiel was surprised when his husband pulled out an ashtray and an already rolled joint. “You don’t like smoking out of the pipe in bed because we always knock it over when we’re not paying attention,” Dean lit the joint and breathed in before passing it to Castiel. He watched as Dean tilted his head up, blowing the fragrant smoke up. It curled towards the skylight which already had a decent layer of snow.

Castiel took a hit, amazed again at how effortless it was when he couldn’t even remember smoking before this past week. 

Dean took one of the DVD’s out of Castiel’s hand, turning to see which one he’d grabbed. Docking. What the hell was that?

“Remember when you said that you looked up demisexual?” Dean asked and Castiel nodded, the smoke held in his lungs and preventing his words. “Regular porn just doesn’t do it for you. We’ve tried a few times, just to see, but it really doesn’t turn you on.”

That made sense to Castiel, considering every past attempt at watching pornography for pleasure instead of research had left him disappointed.

“You thought that maybe if we filmed ourselves it would be different. You, uh, you have a thing for watching me come.” Dean’s face was a gorgeous shade of pink as he took the joint back, shy from his confession and a tiny bit proud if Castiel was reading him right. He looked down at the case in his hand again.

“What’s docking?”

Dean choked, obviously not expecting the question and Cas rubbed his back as Dean’s eyes watered and he tried to catch his breath. 

“Fuck,” Dean said with a rueful laugh. “I forgot how unfiltered you were in the beginning. I thought you wanted to talk about Michael?” 

Castiel raised his brow at the diversion tactic. Dean must have been feeling awkward with the intimate conversation to actually offer to speak about Michael.

“I definitely do, considering I apparently dislike him enough to become violent, but first," Castiel decided to push the comfort level, "tell me about this docking thing.” Cas laughed outright as Dean groaned.

“You know, Dean, if you can’t talk about it, we probably shouldn’t be doing it,” Castiel teased.

“Shut up. That’s not why I don’t want to talk about it,” Dean said with a playful nudge to Cas’ shoulder and now he was really intrigued. Instead of asking again, Castiel just arched a brow and waited.

“It’s just, it’s really intimate,” Dean said softly and Castiel nodded encouragingly. “Since you’re uncircumcised,” Dean began, ”sometimes we do this thing where we put our cockheads together and stretch your foreskin over the head of my dick, kind of like a sleeve and we jerk off that way until we come. It's very hot and intense.”

It was like Cas' blood turned to molten fire; the image that came into Castiel’s mind had the air leaving his lungs in an audible whoosh. When he looked at Dean, Castiel could see his beautiful green eyes had darkened and that he too was a bit breathless.

An unexpected laugh burst from him as Castiel realized that he was half hard in his pants just imagining it. He tugged his bottom lip with his teeth, understanding now why Dean had been reluctant to talk about it, especially when Castiel saw him not so subtly adjust himself in his pajama pants. Shaking it off, Castiel grabbed the rest of the DVD’s and shoved them back in the cabinet.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that just yet but I definitely want to revisit this topic soon,” Castiel said tremulously as unadulterated sexual tension crackled between them.

“Yeah,” Dean laughed as he stubbed out the joint. “I don’t think you're ready either.”

“So. Michael?”

Dean took a pull off of his bottle and then angled himself to face Castiel instead of sitting side by side.

“Michael. Well, I only knew him a handful of months before I met you. He was in a couple of Sam and Gabriel's law classes early on, used to get invited to a lot of off-campus house parties,” Dean said as he fiddled with the label on his bottle. “Self-proclaimed player, Michael is. He’s not real considerate of other people’s relationships because he thinks they never last, so what’s the harm in flirting?”

Castiel scoffed at that logic, taking a sip of his own beer and grabbing the bag of chips again.

“No surprise that he became a divorce attorney,” Dean mused. “Anyway, Michael thinks he is God’s gift and it bothered him that I always turned him down when he would ask me out. I tried to keep things civil because of our brothers and I just told him I was too busy for any kind of relationship. But then you came along,” Dean took Castiel’s hand and laced their fingers.

“Everyone knew I was gone on you. Got teased all the fucking time by Sam and Gabriel and Charlie about it. One night, Sam was hosting some party at our place and Michael was completely wasted.” Dean shook his head. “Started following me all over the apartment before just grabbing my face and kissing me." Dean grimaced as he spoke of it. "I would have laid him out if he wasn't so drunk but I was afraid of seriously hurting him.”

“Michael stopped getting invited to the parties after that and when he found the two of us making out in front of the Arts building he was so pissed. I didn’t have time for a relationship but apparently I had time for you." Castiel was riveted as Dean continued. "He left us alone for a while but every time he finished whatever fling he was having at the time he’d come creeping around trying to feel me out. It was like, he was waiting for us to break up or something. After we got married, it was a few years before we saw him again, beyond coincidental run-ins. He even got married himself, to some detective named Victor.”

“I’m assuming that didn’t last,” Castiel said, reaching into the Frito bag with his free hand and Dean let out a bark of laughter.

“Yeah, rumor has it Victor was offered a promotion that required them to move out of state and Michael refused. That’s was a little over a year ago and that’s also when he started popping up in our lives again. He’d show up at the bar on nights I was singing, bringing his fucking Prius to the shop whenever I was helping Rufus out, for oil changes it didn’t need. Stupid, flimsy excuses every time we’d run into each other.” Dean finished off his beer and turned to put the bottle on the nightstand. Castiel squeezed the fingers of their still laced hands to urge him to continue.

“A few weeks ago he showed up here at the apartment,” Dean said quietly and Castiel felt the air shift when Dean wouldn’t look at him. “He said you were cheating on me.”

Everything inside of him stilled.

“Absolutely not,” Castiel growled out when he found his voice. The very suggestion of it had Castiel recoiling. There was no possible way he would do that to Dean. He refused to believe it.

“You were at this sci-fi writers convention in Chicago and I had promised to help Rufus out with this restoration he was working on that weekend, so I couldn’t even tell you about it. I didn’t want to ask you about it over the phone, you know?”

Castiel observed the way he said ask as if there were a question and Cas’ throat was tight when he spoke. “Did you believe him?”

Green eyes clashed with his tear-filled ones as Dean finally lifted his gaze up from their hands. “You said you weren’t.”

“That’s not exactly an answer, Dean,” Castiel said slowly, voice dangerously calm although he was quaking on the inside.

Dean shook his head. “No, Cas, I didn’t believe you were cheating on me,” Dean said and everything inside of Castiel loosened, but then-

“But… I guess I thought that maybe… you wanted to?” It came out hesitantly. “This last book tour, you met this girl, this fellow writer named Kelly Kline. Super smart and sophisticated. You hung out a lot,” Dean shrugged. “Sometimes you’d miss our goodnight phone calls because you were out with her and I guess that maybe, I kind of wondered if you were bored.” Dean looked at him a bit helplessly and Castiel ached at the sight.

“It’s funny. I couldn’t tell you this when we talked about it before. I don’t know why. It’s easier like this for some reason, I don’t know. Anyway, the truth is, Michael made me wonder if you settled for the first person you felt physically attracted to and if you were maybe regretting it now that you’d met somebody closer to your level intellectually.“

Castiel felt sucker punched. Where had he gone wrong if Dean actually felt that way? He didn’t know how but he needed to drive that assumption right out of Dean’s head. “Dean, do you _honestly_ believe I would have just celebrated ten years of marriage with you because I was settling?”

“Cas, I feel weird talking about this when you don’t even remember enough to defend yourself.”

“The fact that you think I need to defend myself tells me we _do_ need to talk about this.” Mild irritation quickly flared to anger and the only thing that banked it down was the look of abject misery in Dean’s expressive eyes. His desire to banish that look from Dean’s face superseded his vexation.

Dean scrubbed his hands over his face roughly. “No, that’s not what I’m say-” he broke off, frustration ripe in Dean’s tone. “ Anyway, a few days later it was our anniversary. Since we share it with New Year’s Eve, we always wind up at the Roadhouse to celebrate with all of our friends. The only difference this year was that Sammy and Gabe had rented out the back room for a private party instead.”

“Things between us had been off since Michael had pulled his little stunt. I was, I don’t know, sensitive? I guess I was being kind of passive-aggressive? You were sad because you thought I didn’t trust you, and at the same time, you were _pissed_ that you thought I didn’t trust you,” Dean snorted and relit the stubbed out joint laying in the ashtray. Dean inhaled deeply, expelling the smoke in a cloud. “We were just extra on edge, so when you… "

"Go on. What happened next?" Castiel demanded.

"When you ordered me into the bathroom and pushed me into the stall, commanding me to get on my knees, I was relieved. I didn’t want to think, I just wanted to feel like I was yours.”

Castiel gasped as Dean confirmed what he had already begun to suspect.

“Dean, you’re my submissive, aren’t you?” Cas was surprised the words came out as steady as they did.

“Only in the bedroom,” Dean tossed him a playful wink. “Well, mostly.” 

Castiel closed his eyes as erotic, filthy images flashed through his mind, too detailed to be anything but memories, and he felt hot all over.

“We don’t usually scene in public unless we’ve talked about it first and we don’t do the club scene or perform,” Dean continued.

“I don’t like the idea of people looking at you like that,” Castiel said, surprised at the sharpness in his own voice. 

“Yeah, I know,” Dean said with a grin. “but after the Michael thing, we were stressed and keyed up. We hadn’t had sex since you’d been back and we're used to having that regular connection. We’d both been too beat the night you came home, and neither of us was in the mood once I’d told you what Michael said. Then the next night I had said I would fill in for Chuck and sing with the band and you had a final meeting with Crowley to sign some contracts before your break. We were so tense with each other, I knew it was going to snap at some point." Dean sucked on the joint and Cas watched the ember flare cherry red. "Then this waitress, some new hire of Ellen’s, slipped me her phone number, right in front of you,” Dean took one last hit from the joint, placing it and the ashtray on the bedside table beside him. “I don’t think she knew we were married but that was it. You dragged me off to the bathroom and ordered me to my knees and I was so happy that you wanted me that I didn’t even think about where we were. Cas, we never even heard Michael come in. Creepy fuck must have been in there just listening. He was just leaning against the bathroom wall, waiting, when we left the stall.”

“What did he do?” Castiel asked but even as he did, like a switch, he could remember the scene clearly. Cas closed his eyes listening to Dean’s words.

“He told me I was a fool to let myself be fucked by someone who didn’t really love me, that I deserved a real man who wouldn’t sneak around behind my back and how Michael was sure that he could take care of me far better than you ever could. That’s about as far as he got before you decked him.”

The image of himself seething as he loomed over Michael played seamlessly in Castiel’s head.

_"Who the fuck do you think you are? Filling my husband’s head with lies because of your sick obsession with him? Trying to play on his fears? That's pathetic. Go near him again and I promise you, you will regret it. Don’t fucking test me.”_

“I can take care of myself you know,” Dean added, unaware of the new flood of memories rushing through Cas' brain. “I’m no damsel in distress. I’ve been doing it my whole life but I let it slide this time because Michael was a total douche canoe. If you didn’t hit him I would have. I was really surprised he didn’t threaten to press charges,” Dean mused and Castiel snorted in derision.

“Probably to get on your good side and make me look the crazy one,” Castiel said, bitterly. “He knew what he was doing, just like he did when he planted those seeds about Kelly. God, all we wanted to do was leave the party and come home after that but we had all those guests.” 

Castiel moved instinctually straddling his husband’s lap. He needed his hands on Dean to love, soothe, claim. Castiel slid his hands up Dean’s strong arms, warming the skin with his fingers.

“When we finally left, we were all over each other,” it was Castiel who continued the story now.“ If I hadn’t needed you so much, I would have felt bad for the driver but I just… I didn’t care. I needed to feel you, to show you that there was no one else, that there would never be anyone else,” Castiel felt the sting of tears as Dean observed him with a look of wonder. “But, then… Dean, we never saw the car coming!”

“Cas,” his name seemed to be dragged from Dean’s lips as though over broken glass. “You remember the accident?”

Castiel cupped Dean’s face, staring into eyes wide with hope and fear. “Yes, I… Dean,” he swayed, dizziness overtaking him, and he fell forward, brow slumping against Dean’s shoulder as he breathed through the episode. His head felt full and empty all at once. A pressure flexing and relaxing, like a heartbeat. He wondered, vaguely, if he were having a heart attack. Castiel was pretty sure he was about to pass out. He dragged his head up and found Dean’s eyes, wide with worry. Brushing their lips together, he breathed out Dean’s name.

There was a crackling electrical sound and everything went black.

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

_ New Year’s Eve 2006  _

Castiel opened the door, slipping into the bedroom quietly. Dean sat on his bed, back against the headboard. His eyes were closed and Simple Man played softly on the tinny clock radio on Dean’s nightstand.

“It’s over,” Castiel’s voice, husky and soft, had Dean blinking stricken eyes open and Castiel immediately strode over to the foot of the bed.

“No, no-I mean, I spoke with April,” Castiel explained and Dean’s brows winged up in surprise.

“Already?”

Castiel kicked off his shoes and crawled up the bed until he was settled back next to Dean, shoulder to shoulder. His lips quirked up in a sheepish smile. 

“Yes, well. I wasn’t going to tell her over the phone. I called to see if we could meet and talk and it was like she already knew why. Before I could even finish asking.” Cas shook his head in disbelief. ”She was already going on about how we had drifted apart and how she thought it would be best if we broke up.” Cas looked at Dean with an arched brow. “We drifted apart. She said it as if we had ever been close in the first place.”

“Can’t blame a girl for saving face, Cas.” Dean lifted his hand and brushed the back of it down the side of Castiel’s cheek. He shivered at the touch. 

“I suppose not. Dean?”

“Hmm?” Dean replied, watching him with soft eyes.

“You’re really beautiful,” Castiel said, mapping the freckles dusting Dean’s nearly flawless features.

Dean chuckled. “You’re one to talk, blue eyes.”

“Don’t deflect.” Cas’ kept his tone gentle but firm and he saw Dean’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

“Thank you, Cas.”

“That’s better.”

Dean laid his palm open on the bed and Castiel laced their fingers together. “So,“ Dean said, bringing their joined hands up so he could press a kiss to Cas’ knuckles. “How do you feel?” 

How did he feel? Amazing? Euphoric? Free? He felt all of that and more.

“Perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

“And you’re sure you want to do this, Cas? I don’t want you to regret jumping right into another relationship or feeling like you settled just because I happened to make your body talk.” Dean said it teasingly but Castiel could tell the questions were real.

“Dean, I’ve made a lot of friends since coming here. True friends, more than I have ever had in my life that I am so grateful for, but none of them come close to making me feel the way that you do. So yes, I’m sure I want to do this.” Castiel angled his face closer to Dean’s until their lips were a hairsbreadth apart. “Happy New Year, Dean,” Castiel murmured as the sound of people chanting down from ten filtered through the closed door.

“Happy New Year, Cas,” Dean whispered back before they kissed their way into the next year.

_ Third of July, 2007  _

“When will you take the hint, Michael?” Castiel leaned against the counter at Mosely’s diner, surveying the young man coolly. 

“What are you talking about, Castiel,” Michael asked, trying to affect an air of boredom, but his eyes gave it away. It was obvious that Michael didn’t like being confronted but that was too bad for him. Castiel’s bullshit tolerance had reached its limits.

He was waiting for Dean, who was getting changed into street clothes in the back room. The diner was closing early but Dean and Gabriel had both come in to help Missouri bake pies for the Fourth of July picnic happening in town the following day. Proceeds from the sales of the pies were going to renovate the town Library.

“Oh, you don’t? Do you think I don’t know how you weaseled your way onto this trip? You are ridiculously transparent. Do you honestly think being out in the woods under the stars is somehow going to inspire Dean to leave me for you? You’re delusional.”

It was Fourth-of-July weekend and Dean and Castiel were celebrating their sixth month anniversary. Rufus had been so happy with the job Dean had done in restoring a new client's Mustang he’d offered them the use of his hunting cabin in Maine. Sam and Gabriel had wanted to tag along, which Dean and Castiel had no problem with, so long as Gabriel and Sam were at their own campsite. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Castiel.” The flush on the young man's face told Castiel that his aim had been true.

“So you didn’t overhear Sam discussing his plans with Gabriel when you were in class? You and your cousin just happened to book a site in the same campground we’re all going to? The same 'cousin’,” Castiel finger-quoted,” that suddenly bailed on you?”

Michael was saved from answering when Dean came through the kitchen doors to the front of the diner. Dean greeted Castiel with a kiss, which Cas deepened with a growl.

“We’re all packed," Cas told him. "I put everything in the Impala and she’s all gassed up and ready to go.”

It was a point of pride for Castiel that it blew their friend’s minds that Dean allowed him to drive Baby.

“Awesome. Hey, Mike,” Dean finally acknowledged the man standing with a small duffle bag, openly leering at Dean.

“Hey, Dean, you’re looking well,” Michael’s eyes lingered on Dean’s form long enough that he looked away uncomfortably and shifted closer to Cas.

“Yeah, thanks. Same. We’re uh, gonna head out now. I guess we’ll see you up there?” 

“You mean we’re not all riding together?” Michael asked, surprised, and Castiel felt satisfaction as the man realized that his plans of being in a car with Dean for the next four hours were not about to be realized.

“Naw, you’re with Gabriel and Sam. S’me and Cas’ anniversary." Dean sent him a teasing wink that had Castiel smiling widely. "They're lucky they’re coming at all,” Dean slung an arm around Cas' waist as they started out of the door.

“Oh, and you might want to get nose plugs. Sam had the burrito special at Taco Tony’s for lunch today,” Castiel shot over his shoulder with a wicked smirk.

* * *

Castiel tried not to let the fact that Michael was going to be around to ruin his time with Dean. He’d planned for this to be a special weekend. He had experienced a lot of things with Dean, sexually, since being with him. The day after the New Year’s Eve party when they’d had their first kiss, Cas received his first handjob. Castiel had discovered the electric touch of Dean's grip on his cock, coming violently all over Dean’s knuckles, as Led Zeppelin played in the background. Castiel had eagerly returned the favor for Dean and despite being a novice in sexual areas, his too-tight strokes and innocent concentration seemed to do the job well enough. Castiel had to cover his boyfriend’s mouth with his free hand because the touch of his fingers on Dean’s hard, silky length made him extremely vocal.

Castiel knew what it felt like to have his clothed dick rhythmically grind against Dean’s to a sticky completion. The wide armchair in the living room was extremely conducive to frottage. Cas finally felt the bliss of having his cock buried in the back of Dean’s throat, his boyfriend lacking a gag reflex and able to deep throat like the pornstars he’d begun using as research. Cas learned that Dean liked having his hair pulled and didn’t mind when Castiel sucked bright purple bruises into his skin. Dean’s delectable body was a playground for his lips and tongue to explore and Castiel was only too happy to do so over and over again.

The first time they had tried docking, Castiel had come so quickly he would have been embarrassed, if the sight of his cock encasing Dean’s and leaking jizz hadn’t made his boyfriend hot enough to bring himself off seconds later. There was something so intimate about coming while having Dean’s cock connected to his, pulsing his release in the sheath of Cas’ foreskin, and into their kissing slits. 

Castiel was not shy, to Dean’s obvious delight, and always asked for what he wanted. He supposed it was because he had never really been taught to suppress his reactions. They were unfiltered and honest, which according to Dean was awesome because it took the guesswork out. Dean was always eager to please and Castiel made sure to reward him with praise and enthusiastic reciprocation. They’d done nearly everything they could do without penetration in their short time together, and here at this cabin, Castiel was again ready to ask for what he wanted; what he was ready for and that was Dean buried deep inside of him, Castiel underneath him, open and wet and full.

They’d made it to Denmark in just under four hours, putting them at the campground right around nine. Dean’s good mood was contagious despite Castiel’s annoyance with Michael invading their time away together. Rufus’ cabin was right on the water, the gorgeous span of Moose Pond-which was actually a lake despite its name-laid before them, moonlight cascading across the faintly rippling water. Sam and Gabriel would be in a campsite a few sites over. They would be roughing it with a tent and on-site bathrooms because getting into one of the summer cabins last minute was next to impossible. Castiel didn’t know where Michael was staying and he honestly couldn’t care. Not when he was cuddled next to Dean under a gorgeous night sky, next to a crackling fire. They roasted marshmallows and shared sticky kisses as they waited for their brothers to arrive. Dean wanted to help them set up before he and Castiel retired for the night.

They’d already brought their things inside and Castiel had taken it upon himself to remove Rufus’ bedding and replace it with the set Castiel had swiped from Dean’s bed. While Dean had gone outside to get the fire going, Castiel had placed a new bottle of lube on the nightstand and a box of condoms. They’d both been tested after the new year but Cas didn’t want to assume that Dean would be okay with coming inside of his asshole just because they were clean. But, if he were being honest, the idea of Dean’s milky-white release dripping out of his ass made Castiel plump in his boxers.

Low music played on his phone and Dean only made a token protest when a _Dave Matthew’s Band_ song filled the air. 

“You love it,” Castiel said as he licked marshmallow from his fingers humming along to Steady as We Go.

“No, I love you, there’s a difference,” Dean said, swooping in to steal another sweet kiss.

The rumble of Gabriel’s Corolla had them breaking apart and headlights shining in their faces. The first thing Castiel noticed when his brother and Sam got out of the car was the lack of a certain assbutt and Castiel looked at Gabe in question.

“Michael changed his mind. Apparently he felt wrong going without his cousin,” Gabriel said and Castiel snorted.

“More like he didn’t want to sleep in a tent,” Dean said with a laugh as he walked over to the trunk and helped his brother unload. “Come on, let’s bang this out. There's S’more’s to make and the beer ain’t gonna drink itself.”

They sat out under the stars until eleven, Sam and Gabriel slinking off to their site, and promising to meet up mid-morning to spend the day swimming before the fireworks display the following night.

Castiel was on Dean as soon as the door closed behind them and Dean laughed brightly against Cas’ lips. He let himself be led to the bed and Castiel could see the moment that Dean noticed the sexual supplies.

“Something you wanna tell me, Baby,” Dean teased as he pulled away to kick off his shoes and socks.

“I want you to fuck me,” it was said plainly, eagerly, and Dean smiled, too used to Cas’ bluntness to be surprised. “I’ve been doing research,” he added and Dean tipped his head back, laughing, as he sat on the bed.

“That does not surprise me but you gotta know that not everything you see on pornhub is gospel, Cas. If we’re gonna do this, you gotta let me prep you, you gotta check in with me and let me know you’re okay with everything we’re doing.” Dean held out his hand and Castiel took it, stepping between his knees at the end of the bed. Dean slowly dragged his hands up Castiel’s sides, settling at his waist and playing with the hem of his tee-shirt. "And if it's not something you like, you know I have no problem being the one who gets dicked down," Dean offered, with a loving, open smile that let Castiel know that he could have anything he wanted.

"Oh, I want that too," Castiel reassured him, "but tonight, this is what I need." 

"Whatever you want, blue-eyes."

The first time Dean had made Cas come, he told him that Castiel gave him an innocence kink. He said it was in the way that Castiel had let him lead; shyly tilting his head to meet for a kiss, only to pull away on a gasp. Dean revealed that the way Castiel bit his lip and looked up at Dean from beneath his lashes as his back arched and his dick pulsed under Dean’s fingers had nearly melted his brain. Dean had a way of looking at Castiel as though his very being was impossible, like the simple fact that he existed was unbelievable. The look stripped Cas bare.

It was how Dean looked at Castiel now when he slowly drew Castiel’s tee-shirt up and over his head. Castiel took it upon himself to straddle Dean’s lap, knees sinking into the softness of the double bed. Castiel’s hands, sure and nimble, quickly rid Dean of his shirt as well. His mouth was drawn to the long line of Dean’s throat and he didn’t deny himself the pleasure of tasting his skin. Castiel rocked in Dean’s lap, the gentle, barely-there friction sending tiny sparks through his body. His hands couldn’t be still, not when there was all of this golden, freckled skin to touch. His fingers trailed over Dean’s abs, and brushed against his nipples, earning Castiel a mewl of pleasure that had Cas' cock filling even more.

When Dean suddenly flipped them, Cas’ back now against the mattress, head cushioned by the pillow, he gazed up at Dean to find love, naked and worshipping in the green depth of his eyes. Without words, Dean leaned down and captured Castiel’s mouth again. This time, it was Dean’s fingers that played against his skin and Cas hummed in response. Dean dragged his lips from Cas’ and began to trail slow, sucking kisses down his neck. Castiel’s hand fisted in Dean’s silky hair, holding him against his heated skin. Dean’s hand traced Castiel’s ribs, then thumbed at his hip bones enticingly. Dean had amazing hands, fingers calloused and thick.

“Tug my nipples,” Castiel said, sighing as Dean sucked a mark into the hollow of his throat. He could feel Dean smile against his neck when he spoke. Dean brought his fingers up to rub at Castiel’s nipple with his thumb, repeatedly dragging it down the stiffened peak and the sensation had Castiel letting out little whines of pleasure.

“Your mouth,” Castiel gasped out. “Want your mouth on me,” Dean wasted no time enveloping the hardened nub into his mouth, tongue swirling and sucking softly. Castiel felt his hips shifting, restless, and he sighed in relief as Dean’s deft fingers played with the button of his jeans.

“Baby, you good?” Dean murmured against his nipple, then swept down to lap at the dark freckle that always seemed to draw Dean’s attention whenever he was shirtless.

“M’good. So good,” Castiel arched against Dean’s questing hands. “Take them off, please,” Castiel closed his eyes as Dean leaned back enough to get both hands on his jeans and tug them down. Castiel’s erection tented his orange boxers obscenely and he might have been embarrassed if the blatant desire in Dean’s eyes hadn’t chased any discomfort away.

“Are you just going to stare or are you going to take them off,” Castiel sassed, spreading his legs widely and Dean huffed an amused laugh. Castiel wasn’t nervous as Dean slid the material of his underwear down his thighs and off his body. They’d done this before, he thought, as Dean stretched over him to kiss Castiel, hard and needy. The brush of the denim against his bare cock was a wicked tease and Castiel yanked on Dean’s hair.

“Take your clothes off,” he growled against Dean’s lips. It wasn’t a request and the sharp demand had Dean eagerly pushing his pants and boxers down. Castiel licked his lips at the sight of Dean’s flushed cock, thick and heavy between his thighs, tip shining with precum. Dean quickly rid Castiel of his boxers and settled between his legs.

Like Dean, Castiel was thick and long, but he was uncut and his boyfriend took great pleasure in sliding his foreskin up and down and bending over to give kitten licks to the leaking slit. Castiel’s thighs quivered at the teasing sensation. 

“More,” he murmured, arching up, the head of his cock dragging against Dean’s soft plush lips. When Dean swallowed around his dick, taking Castiel to the back of his throat, the groan he let out was long and guttural. Cas’ hands fisted in Dean’s hair as he deepthroated Castiel expertly. His legs fell open even wider as Cas braced his heels on the bed. The squeeze of Dean’s fingertips on his hips told him it was okay to thrust into his mouth.

Castiel didn’t need more of an invitation than that, pistoning his hips shallowly, harsh cries escaping from his throat. When he felt the tell-tale signs of impending orgasm in his balls, Castiel forced himself to stop moving and Dean pulled off of him with lust dazed eyes and a scowl.

“I’m gonna cum if you don’t stop,” Castiel said breathlessly and Dean rewarded him with a heart-stopping smile.

“I want you to. You’ll be more relaxed for when I open you up.” Dean winked at him before dragging his tongue up the underside of Cas’ cock. “Fuck into my mouth, Cas, I want it.” Dean’s voice, husky from the drag of Castiel’s dick pumping into his throat, caused another dribble of precum to erupt from his cockhead and Castiel groaned as he took the invitation to thrust back in. He tugged Dean’s hair again and he didn’t hold back. He resorted to meaningless grunts as he rocketed closer to completion, muscles locking up when he finally exploded, pulsing down Dean’s throat.

Castiel’s body was still shuddering, his mouth hanging open as he gasped for breath and at first, he didn’t even really register the slick, wet finger circling his entrance.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” came Dean’s fucked out voice. “I could stay between your legs forever.”

Castiel merely moaned, the sight of Dean settled between his thighs erotic enough to have his spent dick twitch in appreciation.

“Your pucker is so pink, so kissable.” Dean looked up at him with dark, needy eyes and Castiel nodded. The muscles in his legs jumped when he felt the flat of Dean’s tongue sweep over his hole.

“Fuck,” Cas hissed, hands clenching into the bedsheets. Dean continued to lap at his rim, sometimes changing it up with some suction that had Castiel whining. “Please, please Dean,” was all he could manage and he groaned when he felt a lubed finger breach his entrance.

“You okay, Cas?” Dean asked as he gently tugged at Castiel’s rim, the tip of his pointer finger sliding in and out of the hot tight channel. Castiel’s hips began working against the movement of Dean’s finger causing him to sink in down to the knuckle. Castiel groaned at the intrusion and Dean shifted so that he was braced on his elbow looking down as Castiel's face while his hand continued to do blissful things to Cas’ body. Castiel let go of the sheets to reach up and pull Dean down for a filthy kiss, tongue rolling in the same soft movements of his finger. Dean paused to add more lube, rubbing it against Castiel’s rim and into his asshole.

“Ready for more?” Dean whispered against Castiel’s lips and Cas nodded.

“Please,” was all Cas could manage as Dean slipped another slicked up digit inside of his body. The cabin was filled with the sounds of their heavy breathing and Dean’s wet fingers fucking Castiel’s virgin hole and when Dean crooked his fingers just so, Cas' whole world lit up like a lightning storm.

“Fuck! Fuck, yes.” Castiel found himself gyrating his hips, trying to chase that feeling and Dean laughed, a dark, helpless sound as though he was trying to hold it together. When Castiel pried his eyes open, too lost in pleasure to realize they had closed, it was to see Dean’s green and gold eyes nearly black with hunger. Dean slipped a third lubed up finger inside of Castiel and scissored him perfectly. Dean shifted to his knees, kneeling between Castiel’s legs once again. His middle finger rubbed at Cas’ prostate while his other hand moved to his slowly plumping cock, taking him in his palm and giving a few gentle tugs. Castiel writhed below Dean, unable to hold back his groans.

“I need it, Dean, please. Fuck me.” He tossed his head against the pillow as Dean continued to finger fuck him good and loose. ‘“Just- unh - come on. Fuck me. Cum in me. I want to feel it.” Castiel couldn’t even begin to care that he was essentially begging. A look up at Dean showed him to be no better. Sweat dampened his body and he was flushed and panting. Dean slowly pulled his fingers from Castiel’s ass and he could feel himself clenching around nothing, already missing that full feeling. Dean’s eyes were wild and needy as his thumb pulled at Castiel’s rim, hole gaping and Cas had to grasp his own dick to stave off his second orgasm when Dean dived forward for one last dirty kiss to his pucker, tongue spearing in, pushing past his clenching walls. When Dean lifted his head again, his chin was shiny with spit and lube and Castiel yanked him forward for a debauched kiss that was more tongue than anything else.

When Dean coated his cock with lube, stroking up and down, he moaned deeply and the sound made Castiel whine. When Dean breached him in one solid, steady thrust, Cas nearly screamed, and the sound of it turned Castiel on even more. He purposely clenched his hole, wanting to drag more of those sounds out of Dean. With his knees hooked over Dean’s strong arms, and using the headboard as an anchor, he began to meet Dean thrust for thrust.

“Cas, Cas! You’re so...fuck, Castiel, I don’t know how long I can, nnggh” Castiel smiled in satisfaction as the man he loved started to fall apart, cradled between Cas’ thighs and ramming into his asshole, stretching him so, so well. Castiel could feel the heat pooling in his stomach and knew it would only take a few strokes to have him come again. When Dean shifted and began nailing his prostate with every drag of his cock, Castiel didn’t even need to touch himself. The orgasm ripped through his body, cock jerking against his stomach as powerful ribbons of cum burst out of the head.

Dean’s desperate groan as he watched Castiel erupt was enough for another weak dribble of cum to escape his slit and that seemed to be all Dean needed to push him over the edge. Dean thrust once, twice, three times, nearly folding Castiel in half as he buried his face in Cas’ neck and pumped stream after stream of cum into his lovingly abused hole.

They laid in a tangled, sweaty mess, and Castiel groaned at the feeling of slick spend dripping out and around Dean’s thick cock, still buried inside Castiel’s ass. They were hot and sticky but he still didn’t want to let go of this full feeling. His hands carded through Dean’s damp hair as he groaned into the skin of Castiel’s neck.

“I can’t feel my legs,” Dean murmured and a laugh bubbled out of Cas causing him to clench and Dean to groan. He shifted up, peering down at Castiel with so much love in his eyes that Castiel couldn’t help but drag him back down for a long, languorous kiss.

“Next time,” he huffed softly against Dean’s sinful lips. “Next time, I do you."

_Thanksgiving 2007_

The ride home from the Novak house was quiet. Castiel hadn’t spoken and Dean didn’t press him. He just drove with one hand on the wheel and the other around Castiel’s shoulders. He budged up as close to Dean as he could, taking comfort in his solid presence. Despite the horror show that had been Thanksgiving dinner, Castiel was feeling completely peaceful and in love.

He couldn’t imagine ever getting used to this feeling and the words tumbled out so naturally, you’d have thought he was remarking on the weather.

“I want to get married, Dean.” 

Castiel could feel the tremor that ran through Dean’s body at the words.

“To you, I mean. If that wasn’t clear,” Castiel clarified and Dean started laughing. At first, it was a quiet chuckle, but soon it was a full-on guffaw. Castiel glared at him in offense.

“It’s not polite to laugh during someone’s proposal, Dean,” Castiel said petulantly as they stopped at a red light, although it was difficult not to smile when Dean’s laugh was so infectious.

“That’s not what I’m laughing at,” Dean said when he’d finally calmed down. “Open the glove compartment. There’s a little black pouch tucked in the back.”

Castiel looked at him for a second, intrigued, until Dean grinned and nodded at him. “Go on.”

Castiel reached inside, hand closing around a soft velvet drawstring bag. Opening it up, he tipped the bag over and two silver rings fell into his palm. They were a simple design, flat circular top, and a wide band. Unique but understated. 

“Rowena’s cousin Eileen is a jewelry designer. Cas, I knew when we started this thing last year that I wanted to be with you forever.” Dean pulled off the road at the next rest area and turned in his seat to face Castiel under the orange glow of the parking lot lights. Castiel smiled brightly and picked up one of the rings, feeling euphoric.

“Dean, will you forgive the unromantic setting of the New Hampshire State Liquor store, and make me the happiest human in existence by agreeing to marry me?”

Dean took the matching ring from Cas’ hand. “Only if you’ll do the same,” he said gruffly, tears threatening to spill as they slipped the rings onto each other’s fingers.

Castiel’s eyes stung and he shook his head in disbelief. “I thought you were going to say it’s too soon and here you had rings this whole time,” he said, voice full of joy and awe.

Dean grinned as he admired the rings now settled on their fingers. “Well, I was gonna hang on to them until at least New Year’s, but this works too.” Dean grasped Cas by the back of the head, dragged him forward into a deep kiss. Castiel was giddy with happiness as they made out like teenagers in the warm car. Finally pulling back to catch their breaths, Dean glanced out the window. People going to and coming from Thanksgiving celebrations traipsed in and out of the store coming out with liquor, cigarettes, and fireworks.

“Sam and Gabriel will probably beat us home but how about we go in and get a bottle of champagne to bring back and toast with?” Castiel asked and Dean studied him with a playful smirk on his face.

“You just wanna tell people we’re engaged, don’t you?”

“I really do,” Castiel said with a laugh.

_ New Year’s Eve 2007  _

“Cassie! What the hell is this?” Castiel looked up from his laptop when an envelope skidded across the table and landed in his lap. Gabriel sat in the booth across from him, an indignant look on his face.

Castiel rolled his eyes and picked up the envelope. He made a show of looking inside even though he knew what it was already. “Looks like a wedding invitation, Gabriel,” Cas said, turning his eyes back to his laptop.

"It’s for tonight!”

“Well, then I hope you can make it on such short notice,” Castiel said without looking up. 

“What the hell, Castiel? “The outburst had Castiel snickering and he stopped pretending to be engrossed in his work to look at his brother. “Why am I getting an invitation to you and Dean’s wedding with less than a day's notice?” 

“We didn’t want to wait.”

“Cas, you got engaged like a minute ago,” Gabriel scoffed and Castiel kicked him under the table, flinching when Gabriel yelped sharply. Castiel shrank in his seat a little bit when Missouri shot him a warning look from behind the counter.

“It’s been five weeks, Gabriel, and that’s not the point. Dean and I didn’t want a long engagement. We don’t care about a big wedding. Who the fuck does either of us have family-wise aside from you and Sam, anyway?" When Gabriel started to protest, Castiel raised his hand. "Gabriel, Dean and I are excited to be married. We want what comes after the vows.”

“Fine, I get that, but why wouldn’t you just tell us? Sam and I could have helped.” Gabriel pouted and Castiel felt bad when he realized his brother was hurt to not be included.

“I’m sorry, Gabriel. We wanted it to be a surprise. Dean and I wanted you and Sam to be able to celebrate with us and not stress about everything that comes with throwing a wedding together. And honestly, we didn’t want to get talked into something else when this felt right. Charlie and Jo talked to Ellen and she is letting us use the rooftop garden. Dean’s over there now with Charlie, decorating it. We rented some cheap tuxedos and Charlie is going to perform the ceremony. All you and Sam have to do is be there. You both have suits and your gift to us can be filling the Impala’s gas tank because we are headed up to Rufus’ cabin for the week.”

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Castiel could see that the shock was leaving and quickly being replaced with excitement. “But wait, what about food? A cake? Music?”

“Missouri is catering,” Castiel ticked off his finger, “Ellen is providing the wine for the toast and a bartender as part of her gift to us, plus the bar’s sound system.”

“Well, it sounds like you thought of everything,” Gabriel said, sarcastically, as the door to the diner chimed open. “What about your wedding cake?”

“Missouri is making mini pies,” Castiel said with a grin, as he watched his fiance stroll inside.

“Stop being such a bitch about it, Sammy,” Dean was saying as he walked through the door and made a beeline for his fiance. “You’re still my best man.”

“You’re such a jerk, Dean,” Sam said he followed Dean inside.

Gabriel sighed. “Well, I better be your best man too,” he groused and Castiel laughed. His heart swelled with joy as he and Gabriel listened to Sam and Dean bicker like toddlers.

* * *

The rooftop garden looked beautiful. Rufus had provided space heaters and rented a large canopy. Since it was a late-night wedding, the long buffet table had finger foods and mini pies that guests were encouraged to take back to their seats. There was also a small two-tiered red velvet cake that looked made up of crystallized snowflakes. Gabriel had absolutely insisted on making an actual wedding cake for the couple, and it was gorgeous. 

There were four octagon tables, each covered in gold table cloths. The centerpieces were simple; a chilled bottle of wine surrounded by party favors to be blown at the I do’s at midnight. Twinkle lights were strung all along the roof ledge and twined like vines up the wooden trellis that Dean and Castiel stood under.

There were no more than twenty guests, only Dean and Castiel’s closest friends invited to see them embark on this journey.

Castiel could barely breathe, hardly taking in the words that Charlie was saying, as he was so entranced with his future husband. Outside of the canopy, the air was chilled, giving Dean flushed cheeks that Cas couldn’t help cupping. Dean smiled at him softly as he leaned into the touch. Castiel’s eyes filled with tears as Dean recited his vows, solemnly, eyes sincere and overflowing with love. Castiel was sure he was the same, as he promised to love, honor, and cherish the man before him. Castiel laughed softly when a light snow began to fall and Dean brushed the snowflakes from his hair. 

Below and around them, revelers could be heard in the streets chanting; _10, 9, 8, 7-_

“Dean and Castiel, with the power vested in me, and as witnessed by your friends and family,” _6, 5, 4, 3_ \- “it is with great pleasure that I pronounce you Dean and Castiel Novak-Winchester.“ _2, 1_ \- “You may kiss your husband!” 

The sound of noisemakers and clicking cameras mixed with firecrackers and cheers from the crowds below roared in Castiel’s ears as he kissed his husband, -Husband- for the first time under the winter sky. Castiel closed his eyes and embraced Dean tightly as snowflakes continued to fall, swaying softly to Steady as We Go, which had somehow become their song.

_ When the storm comes shelter me _

_ I don't say a word anymore and you know exactly what I mean _

_ In the darkest times, you shine on me _

_ Set me free forgive me _

_ Steady as we go _

Dean tipped his head up towards the sky, snowflakes landing on his eyelashes. “I wonder if we’re going to get a snowstorm?” Dean pondered out loud, pulling Castiel impossibly closer.

“I don’t know,” Castiel said, curling his arms around Dean’s neck and bringing their foreheads together. “If we do, we’ll weather it together, my husband,” Castiel teased with a big sappy grin stretched across his face.

“My husband,” Dean repeated, giddily. 

_ February 2009  _

“Dean, did you know that what we have been doing in the bedroom translates to light BSDM?”

Dean coughed, smoke billowing out of his mouth as he looked at Castiel with a bemused expression and watery eyes.

Castiel took the bowl from Dean’s hand and settled back on their old couch. He took a deep hit and thought they would have to get something bigger. Maybe a sectional. The small two-seater looked out of place in the vastness of their new loft. Although Castiel wondered if the space didn’t just seem more vast because it wasn’t cluttered up with Sam and Gabriel’s stuff.

“Hello? Earth to Cas?” Dean was laughing at him. “You can’t just check out like that when you're talking about whips and chains.”

“I made no such mention of whips and chains, Dean. I am merely saying that our bedroom dynamic has a certain dom/sub bent to it.” Castiel’s voice was made raspier by the smoke and he smiled when he saw Dean’s eyes dilate. His husband had a voice kink that was utterly delightful. 

“Is this your way of telling me you want to collar me and call me your sweet boy?” Dean asked flippantly, waggling his brows and blowing him a kiss.

“And safe words,” Castiel deadpanned and Dean laughed, head falling back against the couch. When Cas simply took another hit, Dean sat up and regarded him.

“You’re serious?” Dean took the pipe from Castiel’s fingers and he let them drag over Dean’s knuckles, lightly.

“I am.”

Dean appeared thoughtful for a moment then a slow grin rolled across his face. He nodded, biting his lip, and releasing.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay, we can explore that.”

_ December 2011  _

Castiel walked into Glazed and Confused and chuckled out loud at how absurdly the name of the establishment fit his mood. He bypassed the tables and went through the employees only doors into the kitchen. 

His brother was currently adding detail to a Batman wedding cake that he made a note to ask Gabriel to replicate for his and Dean’s anniversary. His husband would love it.

“Hey, Cassie,” Gabriel said, not looking up from his piping.

“You’ll never guess who just called me?”

Gabriel paused and squinted up at him. “Colombo? He wants his jacket back?” Normally Cas would have just rolled his eyes at the lame joke but this time it struck him as funny.

“Sort of,” he said with a laugh when Gabriel just looked at him, perplexed. “Uncle Jimmy. He found out about our estrangement from Mom and Dad and he’s been looking for us. It was April, actually, who told him where we were. He wants to meet. Says he’d like the four of us to come to dinner to meet his family." Castiel couldn't help his excited smile. "We have little cousins, Gabriel. Claire and Jack.”

Castiel had always been close to his Uncle Jimmy. He remembered, often wishing while growing up, that Jimmy was his dad instead of his own father who seemed to have no problem pretending he didn’t exist.

“This is really important to you, huh? Alright. I’m down for shocking suburbia with our total gayness.”

Castiel barked out a laugh. “Good luck with that. He owns a B&B in PTown.” Provincetown was the gay mecca of Massachusettes. It was a seaside town, historically, the true landing spot of the Mayflower. Home to galleries, restaurants, and nightclubs, the place was always alive, until the offseason, when it took on the persona of a quiet, picturesque town. Dean had taken Cas to his first drag show there, which had resulted in Dean kneeling before him on the floor of their bedroom in pink satin panties on the very next date night.

Gabriel straightened up and stretched his arms above his head, interlocking his fingers. The popping sound made Castiel wince.

“You should see a chiropractor,” Castiel advised and Gabriel snorted.

“You sound like Sam. Already has me doing yoga. I look like a moron.”

Castiel had gotten Dean into yoga, under the guise of it helping his muscles and flexibility during long scenes. 

“So, can I tell him yes?”

“Of course you can. Better yet, give me your phone, I’ll call him.” Gabriel snatched Castiel’s phone out his hands and scrolled through his contacts. Castiel looked on, amused, as Gabriel found what he was looking for and hit call.

“Hey, Uncle Jimmy. I heard you missed us or something.”

_March 2013_

Castiel groaned when Dean bounced on the bed with the exuberance of an overexcited puppy. “Dean, what the fuck? What time is it?” It was still fairly dark if the pre-dawn light peeking through their skylight was anything to go by.

“It’s five-thirty.”

“In the morning?” Castiel cracked a bleary eye open and took in the image of his husband. With wind-flushed cheeks and tousled hair, he sat on the bed holding a take-out cup of coffee in each hand and a rolled-up newspaper clutched under his arm. He was dressed in a heavy sweater and jeans which told Cas he had been up for a while.

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. Took a walk a few blocks over to the newsstand, then hit Dunkins. I couldn’t help it, Cas, I had to know.”

Castiel’s eyes glanced at the paper then back up to Dean’s grinning face. “Alright, out with it.” He tried to pretend he wasn’t just as excited as Dean was to find out. Castiel pushed himself up to sitting and took the offered caffeine from Dean. He allowed himself a long, satisfying sip before holding out his hand for the paper.

“Congratulations, Dmitri Krushnic," Dean said as he read over Cas' shoulder. "You have a best seller.”

Coffee was forgotten when Castiel tackled his husband to the bed, kissing him all over his beautiful face before riding him under the dawning sunlight.

_ February 14th, 2016  _

Castiel couldn’t help the swell of pride as his handprint was affixed to Dean’s skin through the transfer paper. It had been a process; lifting the print from Dean’s skin to the paper and back onto Dean’s skin again, and it looked perfect.

They’d decided on the reddish hue of a burn. Dean said he liked the idea of Castiel’s claim being burned on him the way it was burned on his soul. He may have been high at the time but it was still sweet and romantic and sobriety hadn’t changed his husband’s mind.

They’d been playing with the edible body paint, something they both enjoyed and didn’t get enough time to do. Dean had mentioned once that he loved how whenever they played like that Cas would be cover him in handprints. Dean had looked at him coyly and teased Castiel about his Alpha-like behavior.

_ Come on, sir. Grip me tight. _

When Dean had brought him to Pamela’s shop for Valentine's Day he hadn’t a clue what Dean had planned. Now as he watched Pamela begin the linework, he could only stand at Dean’s side, extremely humbled and quite turned on. He brushed his lips over Dean’s temple.

“Thank you, sweet boy,” he murmured into Dean’s skin.

_May 11th, 2018_

“Benny is going to kill us when he sees everything we bought,” Castiel warned as Dean turned down the aisle to the home and health section.

“What are we supposed to do, Cas? I talked to Jim, man, and he said the worst thing for him and your Dad, when they were kids, were the lame joint gifts.”

“Hey, this tea set isn’t lame,” Castiel defended and Dean snickered.

“I meant no offense, baby. I just think they should each have something uniquely their own, is all,” which had resulted in a carriage full of princess dress-up clothes for Ruby and a bug collector set for Evie that came with butterfly nets and child-sized magnifying glasses. Evie was much more into outdoor play than her sister was.

“Cas, can you toss the toothpaste in the carriage?” Castiel turned and grabbed the Colgate off the shelf.

“Did you know that to the other forty-eight states in America, you will only hear the term grocery carriage in Massachusetts and New Hampshire? Everywhere else it’s a cart.”

Dean stopped abruptly and just stared at him, affection on his face for all to see.

“I love it when you talk nerdy to me,” Dean said with a wink. “We need lube.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and followed Dean to the next aisle. 

“Dean, Castiel. Surprised to see you here.”

Castiel’s amusement quickly turned to annoyance when he saw Michael Rosen standing in the aisle holding a hand cart and looking completely out of place in the superstore with his Armani suit.

“Michael. Slumming it at Walmart? What could possibly bring you here?” he looked pointedly at Dean, who only rolled his eyes at him in exasperation.

“How is Victor?” Dean asked politely, no doubt trying to head off any sniping between the two.

Castiel noticed a dark look pass in Michael’s eyes before he regained his cool facade. 

“He’s well, thank you. He just got a promotion. I’m just here to pick up photos for my sister.” When Castiel arched a brow, looking at the empty basket in his hand, Michael stiffened. “They’re not ready yet.“

Pictures. _Sure_. Couldn’t possibly have been the fact that Dean and Castiel had done a signing that morning at the Barnes and Noble next door. Ready to end this conversation, Castiel picked up the biggest bottle of Astroglide he could find on the shelf and tossed it in the carriage with a wink at Michael and a possessive hand to Dean’s shoulder.

“Then we’ll leave you to it. See you around, Michael.” This time it was Dean who followed, chuckling lightly behind Castiel as he led them to the check-out.

_December 31st, 2018_

“Dean?” Castiel called through the door as he stepped into the loft. It was nearing midnight and he was exhausted from his flight. All he wanted was to be in his bed and to curl up with his husband.

He expected Dean to be waiting up for him but he wasn’t expecting the onslaught of Pinesol which told Cas that Dean had been on a cleaning bent. Dean was usually a tidy person to begin with, but a glance around their home showed that every surface gleamed, from the window panes to the hardwood floors.

When he walked into the home office and found Dean at his drawing board with headphones on, Castiel stopped and watched. Dean’s movements were agitated and a half-empty cup sat at his side, long gone cool by the looks of it.

When Castiel touched a hand to Dean’s shoulder he jerked in surprise, whipping off his headphones and staring at him intently.

“Your home,” Dean said and Castiel tried not to feel alarmed that he wasn’t immediately wrapped up in a crushing hug like he normally would be after a week away.

“I am. What’s wrong,” Castiel asked flatly, not wanting to prolong whatever it was that had his husband at a distance from him. 

Dean dropped his pencil and picked up his coffee cup, wincing when he took a sip. Leaving the abstract images aside, he walked out of the office, Castiel following in his wake.

“Michael came by this morning.”

That drew Castiel up short. “What? Why?”

Dean laughed but it wasn’t an amused sound. He placed the cup in the sink and turned around, hands braced beside him on the counter.

“He said that he’d been agonizing for weeks on whether to approach me and he knew you were out of town this week-” Castiel scoffed at that.

“Of course he did. He has issues, Dean, seriously. What was so important that he waited until I was gone to come by and speak with you.”

“That you are cheating on me.”

Castiel merely stared, mouth agape for a full moment before erupting.

“He said what? Are you fucking kidding me? What’s his number? Do you have it? I’m going to kill that little asshole, who the fuck-”

Strong arms gripped Castiel as he realized he had started storming around the room.

“Calm down, Cas.”

“Calm down? He said I _cheated_ -wait, did you believe him?” Castiel held his breath as he waited for Dean’s answer. His usually expressive face was stoic.

“I didn’t dignify the accusation with an answer. Cas, please. I’m tired,” and he looked it, too. His face was drawn and his normally bright green eyes appeared dull. “I really… I really just want to go to sleep.”

“Dean, we have to talk about this,” he was still fairly trembling with rage but concern for his husband had him controlling himself. Dean looked ... fragile.

“We will. But, tomorrow. Please? Just come hold me till I fall asleep.”

Shaking his head, Castiel forced out a breath. He quietly removed his trench coat and hung it up in the closet while Dean went and locked the door. Slipping off his shoes and tucking them onto the shoe rack, he walked over to Dean, waiting by the doorway of their bedroom. He took Dean’s hand and laced them, palm to palm.

“Alright, sweet boy, let’s go to bed."


	11. Chapter 11

When Castiel came to, he was laying down and Dean was frantically calling his name.

“Cas? Cas, come on, don’t do this to me. _Fuck_ , Cas please!” It was the tears in Dean’s voice that broke Castiel free from his daze and he reached out to grab Dean’s wrist. The gesture had his husband gasping audibly.

“Dean, it’s okay,” the power had gone out but the bright snow blanketing the skylight gave the illusion of twilight making them both inky outlines. 

“Fuck, Cas, you scared me. You gotta go to the hospital,” Cas could see Dean fumbling for his phone, and he reached out to still his hands.

“Dean, calm down. Dr. Roche said this would most likely happen. I’m perfectly fine, okay?” Castiel said the words gently because even in the dark, he could tell Dean looked spooked. In fact, Dean looked downright exhausted. How had he not seen it? 

“Cas, you just passed out!” 

“I wasn’t passed out. I don’t think I was anyway. It’s just when the memories come, it’s a lot to filter through.” Castiel kept his voice as soothing as he could, seeing Dean’s eyes widen at his words. “Besides, there is a storm. We’re not driving the Impala through a blizzard.” Castiel reasoned. 

“You sure you’re okay?” Dean asked, softly, as Castiel finally caught his gaze.

“Yes,” Castiel murmured as he observed his husband. Even in the dark, Castiel could see how drained Dean was. It was undeniable. Dean always put Cas’ needs first, even to his own detriment. But it was the way he held himself now that pierced Castiel’s heart. Dean looked so unsure, as though he didn’t know what he was allowed to do. Even now, Dean was distancing himself as he pushed off of the bed, scrambling around for candles. 

Castiel watched in silence as Dean went from room to room, lighting Yankee candle jars and illuminating the dark space. His movements were jerky and Castiel frowned when Dean sank onto the couch and immediately reached underneath the coffee table for the weed and bowl. Just another thing that hit Castiel at once. Dean had been stoned as often as possible since they returned from the hospital and it took his memories rushing back for Castiel to see it for the coping mechanism it was. Dean was in sub drop and probably had been since the accident. Maybe even before.

Castiel thought of Dean asleep on the couch and his tearstained face, and felt sick.

The wind howled outside and sent gusts of snow against the windows leaving crystalized patterns on the glass. Castiel sat next to Dean on the couch and cursed the distance between them. He watched Dean fill the pipe and had to stop himself from taking it away. He didn’t want to put Dean anymore on the defensive than he already was. Ironic that they had been kissing not too long ago, but now that he was himself again, Dean seemed afraid to come too close. He thought back on their conversation before Castiel had been broadsided by his memories. 

When he had come home from his trip and they had their brief discussion about Michael, Castiel had hoped when he woke in the morning, that they could have talked. He felt ill that Dean was under the misconception that Castiel was tempted to stray. By the time Castiel had risen, Dean was already gone. He had left a note saying that he was bringing Baby into the shop for a tune-up before they left for their trip and would meet him at The Roadhouse later on.

Castiel remembered being frustrated because all he wanted to do was clear the air. And possibly murder Michael. The audacity the man had to come into his home and spew such a heinous lie; as if he would ever dream of betraying his marriage vows like that? The very notion was vile and had him clenching his fists in fury. Castiel calmed himself by watching Dean’s profile, head angled down as he broke up the bud and packed the pipe. The man had a face for candlelight. Hell, he had a face for any kind of light for that matter, but the way the shadows played across Dean's face, lashes forming crescents on his skin, was especially beautiful. 

Dean took a single hit before placing the bowl down and stood up abruptly; Castiel sighed as Dean went into the kitchen, wondering how long he would do the avoidance dance. 

“You want a drink?” came Dean’s gruff voice from within the fridge.

“Whatever your having is fine.”

Castiel saw him straighten. Dean closed the refrigerator and reached into the cabinet above the fridge where the liquor was kept. Dean pulled a bottle of Johnny Walker out and carried it out into the living room, two glasses pinched between his thumb and pointer. He set everything down on the coffee table, then changed direction again and retrieved Cas’ blanket. When Dean sat down, he again kept a careful distance between them, placing the folded blanket in the middle as a barrier. Castiel contemplated him silently as Dean poured their drinks. He handed one to Cas, habitually clinking their glasses before taking a sip. 

When Castiel sipped his own, the whiskey burned on it’s way down, but it was bracing. 

“So.” Dean’s voice was almost startling in the quiet, as he finally turned to face Castiel. He could see Dean’s walls were being held up by paper and glue, and it knocked the wind right out of him. “You said you remember. How much, exactly?” Dean asked, cautiously. His fingers were fiddling with the lighter, tapping it against the bowl anxiously. 

“Oh, sweet boy,” Castiel breathed out and heard Dean gasp softly at the endearment. “I remember everything.”

Dean’s eyes flashed wide, settling on Cas’ as they searched his gaze, and finding nothing but the truth. “Everything?” There was a hitch in Dean’s voice that told Castiel he was teetering on the edge.

“Dean,” Castiel moved the blanked and shifted closer to his husband who was still staring at him, frozen in whatever thoughts were running through his mind. “We never got to talk properly, before the accident-”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dean interrupted, picking up the pipe again. “You didn’t do anything wrong, so I don’t see why we shouldn’t just forget it,” he lit the bowl, the embers flaring brightly in the dim room.

“Oh, it most certainly matters. The fact that you would for second think that I would entertain the idea that-”

“That what, Cas?” Dean interupted sharply. “That it would be impossible for you to meet someone in your travels who maybe kickstarts your engine? Someone new and exciting?”

Castiel goggled at him. “Is that how you feel about me, then? That you’re looking for someone new and exciting?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “ Of course not.”

“Then why would you think that about me?” When Dean didn’t say anything it clicked.

“Oh my god. Are you seriously still worried about that? After all these years, you’re still waiting for me to what? Feel cheated, and go sow my wild oats?”

“Dude, it sounds so stupid when you say it.”

“Because it is,” Castiel said firmly. “It _is_ stupid. Kelly is just a friend, Dean. She needed publishing advice. She's not happy at her house and I agreed to set up a meeting with Crowley, that's it, I swear," Castiel needed him to understand. "Dean, I love you. More than everything. Even when I didn’t know you,” Dean flinched at that and Cas could see the sheen in his eyes as Dean fought against his emotions, “even then, I could sense it. I could feel that what we had...what we _have_ , is something so special. I’m not looking for anyone else, sweetheart, okay? I’m sorry you ever felt like I ever would be.” Castiel could see Dean’s facade crumbling, his body quaking in the process. Castiel pulled Dean tight to him, locking him in a firm embrace, trying to head off what looked like the beginnings of a panic attack. He squeezed tightly, letting out a relieved breath when he felt Dean’s fingers clench at the back of his shirt. Soon Dean was holding him just as tight.

“Breathe with me, Dean,” Castiel whispered, “That’s it. In and out, nice and slow,” Cas could feel Dean’s ragged breath, warm against his neck. He also felt the wetness of his tears as Dean finally let go. Castiel rocked gently as Dean sobbed silently against him, his own tears spilling as his strong, beautiful husband fell apart. “It’s alright, I’m right here,” Castiel soothed. “I’m always going to be right here.”

“I love you,” it was a broken whisper, and Castiel held Dean tighter.

“I love you, too.”

He wasn’t sure how long they sat like that, clinging to each other like vines, but Castiel could have happily stayed entangled there all night. It was Dean who shifted them, reaching past Castiel to grab the blanket, then reclining back, tangling their legs and covering them with it. They were forehead to forehead, arms draped over each other.

“It smells like the Christmas Tree Shop in here,” Castiel said softly and Dean huffed out a laugh between them.

“That’s because I have like, six different candles burning.”

“I wonder how long the power will be out?” Castiel murmured, hand coming up to push at Dean’s hair, rubbing at his scalp. Dean’s eyes drifted closed, and a soft smile pulled at his lips and it did Castiel’s heart good to see it there.

“I don’t know, but I’m glad we didn’t buy ice cream today,” Dean said, eyes still shut as he leaned further into Cas’ touch. “Missed you,” he said and Castiel angled down to press a kiss to Dean’s temple.

His husband was a very tactile person, and Castiel imagined the lack of their usually constant physical interaction had not helped Dean’s state of mind.

“I know, sweet boy,” Castiel’s fingers trailed down from Dean’s hair to the long column of his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. _God_ , was he sorry.

Seeming to sense his grief, Dean opened his eyes. “It’s not your fault, Cas. It was just… bad luck.”

“Even still,” Castiel's chest felt tight, “you’ve been scared, and upset, and doing everything you can to take care of me-”

“It’s in the vows, baby,” Dean grinned at him. Dean was still trying to make Cas feel better, and his heart ached for it.

“You think I can’t see how tired you are? Do you think I don’t know you’re in a drop?” 

Dean shrugged it off, as though it wasn’t a big deal. “I’ve been handling it.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I think you’ve smoked more weed this weekend than you did all last month,” Castiel said and Dean couldn't deny it.

“Probably.”

“We should go to bed. We’re both exhausted.”

“Do we have to?” 

Castiel cocked his head at the question.

“It’s stupid, but I feel like... if I fall asleep, I’m gonna wake up and you’ll still be…” Dean sounded ashamed and Castiel wasn’t having that.

“It’s not stupid. Okay, tell you what, lets just-” Castiel extracted himself from the blanket and moved to the far end the couch. He motioned for Dean to settle in next to him, reaching over the side for the handle that would open the recliner. Legs stretched out, they curled up together, Dean’s face buried in the juncture of Castiel’s neck and shoulder.

“S’good,” Dean murmured into his skin and Castiel just squeezed him tighter to his chest.

“I love you, Dean.”

“Love you, too, Cas.”

Castiel held Dean tightly, hand drifting up and down his strong back in comforting strokes. He did not let himself drift off to sleep until he felt Dean’s breath even out against him, falling into a heavy slumber.

  
  



	12. Chapter 12

It was the rich scent of coffee that had him shifting from where his head was buried in the pillows. Eyes closed, Dean burrowed deeper into the blankets as he tried to remember how he’d wound up snug in his bed. He stretched, willing himself to flip over and arched his back on a soft sigh, body stiff from lack of movement. Dean opened one eye, squinting, and peered at the alarm clock on the nightstand. The power appeared to be back on, the neon red numbers blinking 12:00 repeatedly. The window shades were drawn but the snow blanketing the skylight was a bright white, faintly glowing, indicating it was daytime.

Now that he was awake, there was no ignoring mother nature. Dean shuffled to the bathroom to relieve himself. He splashed some water on his face and brushed his teeth since his dry mouth felt stuck shut. Half of him wanted to seek Cas out, but the other half of him wanted to hide a little bit longer. He flopped back down on the bed and tried to will himself back to sleep. His brain had other ideas, and thoughts of the night before played through his mind.

The last thing he remembered was Castiel running his fingers through Dean’s hair as they cuddled together on the couch. Dean pushed himself to seated, cocking his ear, recognizing Cas’ favored emo man-pain music playing softly. Dean noted that the door to the bedroom was left partially open. Castiel had been checking on him while he was sleeping. His stomach fluttered at the thought.

Dean tried to piece together how he’d gone from the couch to the bed, he just couldn’t remember; he had been too relaxed. Dean wasn’t sure how long he had slept but he felt more rested than he had in days. It occurred to him that he had either sleep-walked to bed, or-

“Dean,” His head jerked up at the sound to find Castiel observing him, his face all warmth and softness. “You’re awake. I thought perhaps you’d sleep more, but you look rested.”

For some reason, Dean felt sort of exposed. He tried to shake it off with his usual flippancy.

“Did you Disney Princess me last night?”

Castiel’s look of mild confusion rather than the infinite tenderness he was expressing, did much more to ease Dean's unwanted vulnerability.

“Did you carry me? You shoulda woke me up, I’da walked,” he didn’t mean to sound defensive. It’s not like he wanted to start a fight with Cas. Now that he’d just gotten him back, he didn’t want to piss him off. Only, Dean observed, Cas didn’t seem pissed off. If anything, he only looked more patient. 

Castiel leaned against the doorjamb in threadbare jeans and nothing else. His bare biceps flexed as Cas crossed his arms, reminding Dean of their strength, and found he was sort of sad he’d missed it.

Castiel looked at him with mock exasperation, a half-smile tugging at his supple lips. “ Dean, you were out like a light, there would have been no waking you if I tried. You didn’t even hear me leave the bed to go shower. Besides,” he added with a shrug. “I’ve missed holding you like that.”

The words had warmth washing over him like a wave and he fought the tightness in his throat that such a simple comment caused him.

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Just after eleven. The power is back on here, but a lot of the city is still out. They're declaring a state of emergency and asking everyone to stay off the roads. It's supposed to start easing up this evening.” Castiel pushed off from the wall and slowly walked toward the bed. Dean moved over enough for Cas to sit on the edge. “Gabriel and Sam’s block is still without power, but they’re okay because of the generator.”

Dean hmphed in amusement. “Their neighbors must love that.”

Castiel slid his hand across the bedspread in search of Dean’s, dragging his fingers across the palm when he found it. It sent a tingle up Dean’s spine and he gave a shaky sigh when their fingers laced.

“Cas, are we okay?” It tumbled from his mouth without forethought and his eyes darted away when Castiel cradle his jaw, lifting Dean’s face until their gazes locked. Dean let out a soft sound when Cas’ pillowy lips touched his own. Dean’s hands came up to clutch around Cas’ back, fingers pressing reflexively into the skin. Castiel brushed their lips together, urging Dean’s to part, taking the kiss from chaste to sensual. Castiel’s hand drifted up to tangle in Dean’s hair, yanking a bit on the strands. It caused him to moan and Castiel used it as an invitation to delve deeper with his tongue. There was no race to rip off clothes, no push to go further; only the perfect slide of their mouths as they reconnected in the most basic way.

They were both panting softly when they parted and Castiel pressed his brow to Dean’s.

“ We will be,” he rasped tenderly, “ Now, come into the kitchen. I made you lunch when I heard you begin to stir.”

“I’m not that hungry,” Dean protested, wondering if he could coax Cas back to bed.

“You need to eat,” his voice was firm and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Cas, I-”

“That wasn’t a request, sweet boy,” the low gravel of his tone, the quiet command in Cas’ voice had his own falling away and brought Dean relief.

 _Yes_. This was what he needed. Dean stood, slipping easily into his role and let Castiel lead him obediently from the room. He sat at the kitchen island where a bowl of tomato rice soup and a grilled cheese sandwich sat waiting for him, along with a tall glass of orange juice and his favorite Yoda mug filled with coffee.

“This is great, Cas, thanks, “ Dean started to spoon up the soup when he noticed Cas wasn’t getting his own lunch. “Aren’t you gonna eat?”

“I already did while you were sleeping,” Castiel said, filling his _Save The Bees_ cup with his own dose of caffeine. Cas sat on the stool next to Dean’s, angled so their knees touched.

“You know,” Castiel began, “ We were going to start our road trip next week. I hope that still something you wanted to do?” 

Dean stopped inhaling his food- _fuck, he hadn’t realized how hungry he was_ \- and nodded before washing his bite down with his coffee. Castiel eyed the juice pointedly and Dean rolled his eyes, taking a healthy gulp of that as well before speaking.

“I’m all for it as long as Dr. Roche says your good to go.”

Castiel beamed at him, eyes crinkling at the corners, mouth stretched in a wide smile. “Excellent,” he said and Dean felt himself grinning dopily before Cas cocked a brow at him, reminding Dean to finish eating. They talked about going out after the storm for travel supplies for the trip. Castiel suggested an evening of searching for a beach house to rent and Dean felt excited at the plan.

“But for now, we have hours yet. When you’re done I want you to shower. Be quick and thorough,” Dean’s breath caught at Castiel’s words, eagerly awaiting instructions. “When you’re finished, dry off and kneel by the foot of the bed facing the door.” Castiel’s voice was confident, but his stormy blue eyes asked the question. 

Dean didn’t hesitate. “Yes, sir.”

Anticipation thrummed through his body as Dean scrubbed himself clean, taking extra care, and had to stop himself from stroking his plumping dick. He was so ready to let go and relinquish his control to Castiel. Dean had been holding on to his feelings so tightly, trying not to drown in an emotional stew of sadness and grief; of love, hope, and fear. Castiel always said part of why he fell in love with him was how selfless Dean was, how he gave of himself to whoever needed it. Castiel liked to be the one who took care of him and Dean hadn’t realized how much he had missed it. Between Cas being away on his tour, then the week in the hospital, and the past few days of Dean being a virtual stranger to the man he loved, Dean had slid right into sub drop. Scary that he hadn't noticed until Castiel brought it up.

Dean needed that balance back. He craved it; the thoughts in his head, despite their years together, still wreaked havoc on his mind, telling Dean he didn’t deserve Cas, that he wasn’t good enough, and they needed to be silenced. Castiel could do that for him.

Dean finished up, shivering when he stepped out of the shower, the air cool on his wet skin. Dean dried thoroughly, from his head to his toes, then finger-combed his hair, taming the spiky mess. Dean wondered if Castiel was still doing the dishes or if Dean had been too slow. A peek in the bedroom showed his favored floor pillow at the foot of the bed and Dean eagerly went to his knees, sitting back on his heels with his hands clasped behind his back, head down.

He knew Cas was just as eager as he was when he didn’t have to wait long to hear his footsteps.

Dean didn’t look up he heard the door open and received a pleased hum of approval.

“Look at you,” Cas’ voice was all sandpaper and smoke. “Kneeling so pretty for me.” Dean sighed as gentle fingers began to card through his hair, then drifted down to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing gently. A light squeeze on Dean's jaw hinted for him to look up and he was met with ocean eyes, stormy with need, lust, and love.

Castiel walked a slow circle around, hand never leaving Dean’s face. “You’ve been so good, Dean, taking care of me this week.”

“Anything for you, sir,” the words slipped out, easy for their honesty.

“I know,” Castiel purred as he stopped in front of Dean. He could see the hard line of Cas’ cock through his jeans, thick and heavy against his thigh. Dean’s mouth watered at the thought of its hot weight against his tongue and sliding down his throat.

“Do you want something, sweet boy?” Dean lifted his gaze from Cas’ crotch to see his husband smirking down at him with pure want in his eyes, teeth tugging on his bottom lip and making Dean whimper. “You can have it, Dean. You just have to ask.”

Dean’s fingers clenched behind his back as he fought the urge to reach out. He didn’t have permission yet.

“Don’t be shy, tell me what you want,” Cas’ voice was like liquid smoke and Dean nearly moaned at the sound of it. Dean was pretty sure with enough time and effort, he could come untouched just from Cas’ gritty voice.

“I want to suck your cock, sir,” Dean flushed at the desperation in his voice but the arch of Castiel’s brow and sharp intake of breath told Dean he’d said exactly what his husband wanted to hear.

“Thank you for using your words,” Castiel praised and Dean smiled up at him, licking his lips when Castiel started to undo the button of his jeans. He pulled the material down, letting them fall to the floor with a _whoosh_ of sound. Dean groaned. Cas had gone commando and his beautiful dick was at half-mast and quickly thickening. 

Castiel began to lightly stroke his cock with his free hand and Dean mewled when the head peeked in and out of the foreskin, teasing Dean enticingly. 

“Please. Please, Cas, let me suck you,” Dean begged and Castiel bent down to press a soft kiss to Dean’s lips.

“You are perfect,” Castiel murmured, before drawing back. He dragged his cock against Dean’s bottom lip and he shuddered, wanting so badly to touch his tongue to the now leaking slit. “You may put your hands on me, but only your mouth can touch my cock, understood?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean breathed out. Castiel used his thumb to drag Dean’s lip and he opened his mouth obediently.

“Good boy,” Castiel pushed his cock against Dean’s lips and hissed when Dean’s tongue darted out to swipe at the head. “Suck,” Castiel growled as he pushed into Dean’s mouth. 

Dean moaned, hands braced on Castiel’s thighs, and began to float. His whole consciousness just narrowed down to Castiel and the drag of his silken cock in and out of his mouth; the clean salty taste of it, and the scent of apples bright on his skin. Cas rolled his hips gently, guttural grunts of pleasure falling from his lips as he fucked Dean’s face. Dean stared up at him from under his lashes, begging with his eyes for Castiel not hold back. He seemed to understand as his long-fingers tightened in Dean’s hair and he began to rock faster.

Cas had his head tipped back, plush mouth open as broken gasps of air escaped and Dean moaned wantonly around his thick dick at the stunning sight. Castiel shuddered at the sound and Dean made a frustrated noise of protest when Castiel pulled himself out of Dean’s mouth, panting harshly

Cas chuckled, a throaty sound, rich like the finest whiskey and Dean felt pride as he recognized Castiel’s fight for control. 

“I adore your mouth, sweet boy, but when I come, it’s going to be buried inside of you.”

Dean nodded, frantically. Yes. _God, yes_ he wanted that.

“Get up on the bed, on your hands and knees.”

“Perfect,” Castiel purred as Dean scrambled to do as he was told. His back arched when he felt Cas’ hand trail down his spine, shivers wracking his body. 

“My poor, touch starved Dean,” Castiel said as he climbed on the bed behind him, and draped his warm body over the length of his. “You’ve been so patient, so brave.”

The words soothed his soul like a balm and Dean hummed at the praise, head buried in the crook of his elbow on the bed. 

“I’m so proud of you,” Castiel continued as he peppered kisses down Dean’s back, stopping to nip and suck marks into his freckled skin. Dean let himself feel it all, relishing in being surrounded by Cas after so long without him. The blunt head of Castiel’s cock rubbed torturously between Dean’s ass cheeks and he couldn’t help canting back. He didn’t want a layer of clothing between them.

“Sir, please,” was all he managed when Cas began to rock against him even as he trailed open-mouthed kisses down the side of Dean’s neck. Dean loved being marked and Castiel always loved leaving reminders of who Dean belonged to.

Castiel fitted his hand over the handprint on Dean’s shoulder, gripping tightly as he continued to kiss and suck his way across his shoulder blades.

“Please what, sweet boy? What do you need?” Dean couldn’t answer, just so grateful to have his husband back. Castiel playfully bit his ass, before soothing the bite over with his tongue, before he asked again.

“You. Just you,” the words were nearly a sob and Dean gasped when Cas’ wide palms clutched his hips and flipped him onto his back. Castiel’s trek up his body was fluid as he slid over Dean until he was kneeling between his thighs and caging his head with his forearms. Castiel bent down and nipped at Dean’s bottom lip, soothing the sting with his tongue. He didn’t know how long Castiel spent on his mouth, but it was slow and lazy, and impossibly deep, and Dean’s knees came together on either side of Castiel’s hips and squeezed.

When Castiel drew back, Dean chased his lips, but Cas had other plans as he laved at Dean’s clavicle. The soft brush of Castiel’s messy dark hair made him sigh as Cas made his way down Dean’s body. Dean was sure he made a debauched picture, lips slick and kiss swollen, his body littered with claiming marks sucked into his skin by Castiel’s fevered mouth. It was glorious.

Dean was aware he was making desperate sounds but he was too needy to care. His body was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and saliva from Cas’ mouth and it made him ache for more. Knees fell apart, wider, and Castiel gave a dark, delighted laugh at the explicit invitation.

“Oh, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you, sweet boy?” Castiel growled against the skin of Dean’s thighs, biting and sucking dark marks against the freckled skin. “All laid open for me?”

“Been- _ah_ ,” Dean arched as Castiel’s mouth brushed over his balls, strands of his hair dancing across the underside of his cock and making drops of precome pearl on the flushed head. “S’been awhile, sir,” Dean said on a gasp as Castiel gripped his ass cheeks and exposed his furled hole. Dean bit out a loud moan when the flat of Castiel’s tongue dragged over his entrance.

“It has. You’ve been so amazing for me, Dean, so understanding, I love you so,” Castiel praised and Dean flushed.

“Love you too,” his voice was breathy.

Castiel pulled back and Dean whined. “Shhh,” Castiel soothed with a hand to his knee, before crawling over him to retrieve the lube and a pillow to prop up Dean’s ass.

“You know what I want, Dean?” Castiel asked him, voice sandpaper rough and thick with want. “I want to fuck you with my tongue and my fingers, and then I want to fuck you with my cock until you come untouched and screaming my name. Would you like that?” Although the question was asked steady, Dean could see the fight for control in Cas’ lust-glazed eyes.

“Please, sir,” Dean’s voice was gruff with hunger, embarrassment superseded by the pure necessity to be taken by his husband.

Then all thoughts drifted away as Castiel rubbed his stubbled chin along the soft skin of his ass cheeks. His husband was exceptional at many things, but rimming was definitely up there in his skillset. Castiel tongue fucked his hole with a single-minded focus, and with as much enthusiasm as he fucked his mouth. Licking and nipping at his pucker before sealing his mouth over the fluttering hole and sucking. Cas hummed against his rim, tongue darting inside and swirling, and wet obscene sounds had Dean’s dick kicking against his stomach. He vaguely heard the click of the bottle before fingers coated in lube replaced his tongue.

Muscle memory had Dean’s tight channel relaxing easily as Castiel breached him with two fingers up to the knuckle. It burned a little, but Cas knew Dean liked it that way. Dean braced his hands against the headboard and pushed against Castiel’s hand, body vibrating with need when Cas took the hint and crooked his fingers.

Dean arched off the bed as the pads of Cas’ fingers rubbed against the walnut-shaped bundle of nerves in his body, making him shake with pleasure. Castiel added a bit more lube to his exploring fingers, scissoring all along his walls before adding a third digit.

“Oh, sweet boy, you are unreal,” the awe in Castiel’s voice had Dean heating and pride flushed through him at causing the riveting look of wonder on his husband’s gorgeous face as he stared at his fingers sliding in and out of Dean’s stretched opening. Dean let out a muted cry when Castiel’s fingers slipped free only to scream in pleasure when Cas slicked up his cock and pushed into his hole with one long steady stroke. Dean’s bowed legs came up to wrap around Castiel’s hips as he began to thrust into Dean's body, hard and steady.

Dean tossed his head to the side on the pillow as Castiel’s mouth latched onto the skin of his neck. Cas sucked and nipped, grunting his satisfaction with each jet of his hips. It felt so good to be like this again, Dean didn’t even have words to describe the feeling. It was like finally being whole again, and he wasn’t even aware he was crying until Castiel stilled in his body. Cas braced over him and began to brush Dean's tears away with his thumbs.

“Don’t stop,” Dean whispered, still arching his hips, “don’t stop, please, Cas I love you, please-”

Dean found himself dragged into Castiel’s lap, bodies still connected as he straddled Cas, drawn up together chest to chest. 

“I love you too, Dean, always,” Castiel promised in his gravel-laced voice, thick with emotion. 

Cas held Dean against him, and he buried his face in Cas’ hair, breathing in the musky scent of sex mixed with sweet apple, and sighed tremulously. Dean had his arms wrapped tight around Castiel’s neck, his cock trapped and slick between their stomachs. Despite the minimal friction, Dean knew it would take nothing but a feather-light touch to have him spilling between them.

Castiel rocked them gently and Dean’s head fell back as even just that soft motion against his dick was enough to have him coming, and a strangled cry of Castiel’s name ripped from his throat. 

Dean gulped in air as Castiel still held him firmly against his body, but Dean could feel the tremble in his thighs. When he finally let his eyes open, the naked desire flaming behind Cas’ baby-blues had him moaning and his cock giving a valiant twitch. Dean clenched around Castiel’s dick inside him, signaling his husband to take what he needed.

With a growl and a move that made him breathless, Dean found himself on his back again, legs hooked over Castiel’s forearms as Cas finally chased his own release. The absolute bliss on Cas’ face as he thrust into Dean was breathtaking. Feeling sated and full, Dean let his hands lazily wander, rubbing cut hipbones, fingers trailing up defined abs and thumbing at hardened nipples. Castiel groaned at the touch, hips jacking faster.

“Pinch them,” Castiel commanded and Dean eagerly rolled and tugged at the stiffened peaks between his fingers. A few more deep strokes and Dean’s fingernails scrapping over his abused nipples had a guttural growl escaping Castiel’s mouth as he came hard in Dean’s body. Dean could feel Cas’ cock pulsing inside of him as he ground against Dean’s ass. Dean moaned happily at the feeling of hot come filling him up. Castiel looked so stunning with his head thrown back, Adam’s apple bobbing as he sucked in gasps of air. The sight made Dean wish they still had the refractory period of their twenties.

Castiel pulled his softening cock from Dean's body and fell against him, damp and sweaty and cradled between his thighs. Cas mouthed at Dean’s shoulders, along his neck and the underside of his jaw, until he found Dean’s mouth and pressed soft, reverent kisses upon his lips. Dean thought about them getting up and cleaned, but the warm weight of his husband’s body on top of his as he whispered words of praise and love in his ear, had him drifting peacefully.

Dean continued to float, barely making a noise when Cas left the bed to retrieve a warm washcloth to wipe them down with. He wordlessly accepted the glass of juice Castiel fetched him, then allowed himself to be manhandled into prime cuddling position, with Castiel’s arm and leg draped around him while Dean played the little spoon.

Sweet kisses pressed into his shoulder blades as Castiel embraced him tightly, shuddering a little against his skin.

“Cas?” Dean asked in concern when he heard the sharp inhale of Castiel's breath shudder in his ear

“I’m so sorry, Dean,” the words were pained and Dean was reminded of Missouri’s warning: _That boy loves you, and he is going to feel heartsick enough for putting you through this when he comes back to himself._

Dean turned in Castiel’s arms and cupped his stubbled cheek. “Hey, no. Don’t do that,” he said softly, sad at the grief in Castiel’s cobalt eyes. “None of this was your fault.”

Castiel blew out a breath. “Doesn’t make it hurt any less. Don’t tell me it does.”

Dean quirked a grin and went for playful. “I can tell you I’m feeling no pain right now,” he felt a twinge in his ass and smirked. “Well, mostly.”

Castiel rolled his eyes, but Dean could tell he appreciated the effort.

“Cas, I’m not gonna lie, having you look at me like I was a stranger was unbearable. I never want to feel like that again. But even if you had never gotten your memories back, I still would have done my damndest to make you love me again.”

Castiel surged forward and kissed him hard, hand gripping his jaw. “I never stopped loving you,” he said fiercely and Dean’s breath caught at the resoluteness of his tone. “I always felt it, even if I didn’t recognize it at first. And when I did recognize it? It was before my memories came back. My heart doesn’t know how not to love you, Dean.”

Dean smiled widely at that. “That’s so romantic, you sap,” he teased and Castiel arched a dark brow at him, pretending to be annoyed, but the soft look in his eyes betrayed him. Dean glanced up at the skylight, the snow-covered glass faintly glowing with afternoon sunlight. Castiel looked over his shoulder at the alarm clock.

“It’s four,” he said, turning back to Dean. “Shall we take a bath and then begin our search for a beach house?”

Dean leaned in, catching Castiel’s pillowy bottom lip with his teeth, then let go. “Sounds good to me,” He murmured before indulging in another taste of Cas’ mouth, kissing him deep and languid. And if they needed a shower after their bath, they certainly weren’t complaining.

**Epilogue**

Castiel drummed his fingers to the beat of the music across the wooden surface of the table. The Roadhouse’s house band was belting out some soft rock covers as regulars and newbies alike filled the space with chatter and laughter. The distinct scent of beer and peanuts was overlayed by the excellent gumbo and fried cod that had been the bar and grille’s specialty that night.

Castiel admired his husband’s ass in the new jeans they’d picked up on their California vacation. They were black and hugged his firm cheeks just right, clinging to his bowed legs in such an appealing way. He was not the only one who thought so if the stares Dean garnered meant anything. The crowded heat of the bar had made Dean strip off the deep purple and black flannel down to the white tee-shirt he wore underneath. It revealed off a portion of his handprint tattoo, and the low lights of the bar showed off the column of Dean’s throat that was marked by Cas’ mouth. 

He looked sinful; burnt-honey hair slightly tousled from Castiel’s own fingers. Dean’s smile was bright as he tipped his head back, laughing at something Garth, the bartender said to him and he watched as it drew admiring looks from those around him. So many lascivious thoughts these people had about his husband, but he was all Castiel’s and _fuck_ if that wasn’t a powerful feeling. He eyed Dean up and down with a sultry look of his own when the man turned at winked at him from the bar, waiting for Garth to fill his order.

“You guys are so gross,” the mock exasperated tone of Charlie’s voice had him dragging his eyes reluctantly from Dean at the bar. “I swear, you guys have always been a little extra with the PDA, but I swear, since you guys came back from vacation, it’s like you’re magnets, always looking, always touching.”

“It’d be creepy if it wasn’t hot,” Castiel laughed at Meg’s words. Turns out that when taking an accidentally impaired Ork to the E.R. there could be benefits; such as Charlie meeting Nurse Masters. This was their second date and Cas could see the sparks between the two women and it made him smile.

“Yes, well,” Castiel didn’t have much to say or deny. Since the accident and the loss and return of his memories, he and Dean had been even more tactile with each other. He was sure the constant need to reassure each other with touch that everything was okay now would taper off eventually. But that quiet, simmering want between them was something he saw never disappearing.

“Where are Sam and Gabriel, I thought they were meeting us here?” Charlie craned her neck towards the door, shaking her head when people came in from the crowd, none of them Castiel’s brother or brother-in-law,

“They’re supposed to be,” Castiel said, smiling brightly when Dean slouched in the seat next to him passing out the four cold bottles of Sam’s Winter Ale.

“Who’s supposed to be?” Dean asked after a quick kiss to Castiel’s brow, arm coming over the low arms the wooden chair to link with Cas’, fingers tangled together.

“Our brothers,” Castiel said, taking a pull from his bottle. It had been a few weeks since their month-long excursion to California. It had been everything they’d hoped. Time to reconnect and just be together. They had spent time in the beach house as they planned and it was fun; full of sex and swimming. Just a complete stress release. Later, they took a turn camping in the Sequoia National Forest and it had been an entirely different feel; spiritual and sacred and when they spent Dean’s birthday making love under the stars by the light of the fire, he’d never felt more complete. 

“Yeah, well, if they don’t show by ten, we ain’t waiting,” Dean said, lifting his beer to his lips. Castiel’s eyes lingered on his throat as he swallowed, and without thought, his fingers drifted to caress one of the lovebites standing starkly against the cord of his neck. Dean looked over at him and winked and Castiel felt himself twitch in his jeans.

It was nearly Valentine's Day, and since their anniversary had been a spectacular wash this year, Dean and Castiel were taking off to Rufus’ cabin for the weekend, for some snow tubing, ice fishing and making love by a crackling fire. 

It would be their last trip for a while as Castiel’s next book in the Supernatural series that was going to be entitled _Remember Me After the Storm_ had already started to plot itself in his head and Castiel knew the days of him being holed up in the home office was drawing near. Dean had been asked to participate in an art showing at Dartmouth and had a few pieces he needed to complete, plus meetings with some people who wanted to commission some work as well.

“Why don’t you just wait until morning?” Charlie asked, digging into the basket of fries on the table.

Dean leaned against Cas’ shoulder and Cas let go of Dean’s hand so he could drape his arms around his shoulders and pull him back against his chest, despite the separate chairs.

“It’s supposed to snow during the day tomorrow, I’d rather get in town, grab all our groceries and be settled in the cabin without having to worry about dealing with snowy mountain roads and Baby’s tires,” Dean replied, then turned his face to kiss at Castiel’s jawline. 

When hands landed heavily on Castiel’s shoulders, he jumped, jarring Dean who scowled at him adorably.

“Dean-o, Casanova,” Gabriel said with a cheeky smile, dragging to chairs over to their table. “Charles, Nurse Meg, nice to see you. We have some gossip,” he sing-song.

Sam rolled his eyes as he slid into the chair next to his husband. “Gabe, we probably shouldn’t be spreading it around.”

Gabriel leaned over and planted a loud smacking kiss on Sam’s cheek which had the taller man sighing with amused affection.

“You’re funny,” Gabriel said, patting Sam’s cheek. “So guess who was seen being handcuffed in the parking lot of the law office,” Gabriel continued, signaling a nearby waitress to order a drink. The look of glee on his face had Castiel sitting up straighter.

“Who?” Cas asked, suspiciously, feeling like he already knew the answer.

Sam sighed as Gabriel gleefully exclaimed “Michael!”

“Who’s Michael?” Meg asked and Charlie snorted.

“Dean’s stalker,” she said and Meg choked on a sip of her beer.

“Wait, seriously?” Meg’s brows winged up in the air in question.

“Hold up, hold up, hold up,” Dean interrupted, hand up and looking at his brother-in-law.

“Yes, Gabriel, explain.”

“Sammykins?” Gabriel gestured to his husband with a flourish, “take it away.”

For a minute, Sam tried to act like he was too above rumor-spreading but then he gave in and leaned forward across the table.

“Okay, so get this. You guys know how the uber was hit the night of the party, right?”

“No, really, Sam, is that what happened?” Dean said with an exaggerated eye-roll. Castiel pinched his arm.

“Shush, let him talk,” Castiel chastized and Dean settled down. 

“Well apparently after the hit and run, the police didn’t think they’d be able to catch who did it. The traffic cams and security cameras from the nearby business didn’t have the right angle.”

Dean and Castiel had been appraised of the situation after Castiel’s check-up with Dr. Roche. The driver, they knew, was fine. He was the one who had called 9-1-1 after the collision, lucky to escape with some bumps and bruises. Castiel knew that Dean hadn’t really been focused on anything other than getting Cas help. 

“But,” Gabriel cut in, “A good samaritan happened to catch the whole thing on her phone. She’d been filming her friend trying to drunkenly twerk on that buddha statue outside of The Ming Dynasty-”

“Ooh, they have the best egg rolls,” Charlie said. “Sorry,” she mimed zipping her lips shut at Gabriel’s glare.

“She posted it on youtube,” Sam said, cutting to the chase. “And it wasn’t just an accident, guys, it seriously looked deliberate.”

“Wait, you saw it?” Castiel asked, sharply and Dean placed a calming hand on his thigh.

“Yeah,” Sam said. “It’s been taken down now, because of evidence, but it definitely looked like he was aiming for you.”

“Dude’s probably got some shrine dedicated to you in his room,” Gabriel snorted but Dean didn’t look amused.

“That’s super comforting, thank you Gabe,” Dean said, deadpan. “Not creepy at all.”

“ I knew joining this little circle of friends would be interesting,” Meg smirked.

“Huh. I wonder if that’s why he cornered me in the store. You know, trying to feel us out for information?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but I wouldn’t be surprised if you hear from the police in a few days,” Sam warned.

“Aw,” Dean said with faux dejection. “Too bad we’ll have no cell service for the next few days.”

“Dean, Rufus’ cabin has wi-fi,” Sam reminded him and Castiel chuckled when Dean only rolled his eyes.

“They don’t know that,” Dean said smartly and Sam just shook his head. “Alright, baby, you about ready to blow this place. There are ski slopes waiting for us.”

“Ha! Like the two of you are gonna leave the cabin for anything other than ice and lube,” Gabriel snarked and Sam groaned.

“Must you?” Sam asked, pained.

“Yes. Yes, I must.”

Dean and Castiel made their rounds, hugging everyone goodbye. When they made their way to the parking lot and to the Impala, Castiel pushed Dean against the driver’s side door, angling his head up for a long, languorous kiss in the brisk cold.

When they broke apart for air, Dean pressed his brow to Cas’, a lazy smile rolling across his beloved face. “Ready to beat the storm?”

Castiel couldn’t help but to tug him down for one more hard kiss on his lips, another on his freckled nose before grinning up at him.

“As long as I’m with you, sweet boy, I’m ready for anything.”

The End

  
  



End file.
